


The Sound of Miserables

by StarshipRangerBoyWonder



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Sound of Music (1965)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarshipRangerBoyWonder/pseuds/StarshipRangerBoyWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cross-over of the Sound of Music! Fantine, a nun in training, is thrust into the dreary lives of Captain Valjean and his seven children. The new governess stumbles her way into their hearts by delighting the family with song and love. But what happens when the Javert family next door suspects something of the Captain? Or what to expect of Valjean's "faithful" partner, Auriville de Thenard, and her relations with uncle Felix Thenardier? And what of the romance between Valjean's oldest and the delivery boy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hills and a Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I don''t know what to say except enjoy and tell me what you think. The first two chapters and beginning of the third were written on my phone so autocorrect had at me.

"The hills are alive with the sound of music...! With songs they have sung for a thousand years...!"

Fantine twirled about a tree, he skirt flying behind her and shoes discarded beside her wimple. The cool breeze of the French hillside rushed over her hair and across her finger tips. The young woman smiled brightly as she skipped beside a brook, singing loud and proud.

"The hills fill my heart... with the sound of music..."

She gazed across the clouds and over the abbey. She searched for the sun. The bright circle that amazed her and unfortunately took her attention halfway through her chores.

"My heart wants to sing every song it hears! My heart wants to beat like the wings of the birds rhat rise from the lake to the trees! My heart wants to sigh like a chime that flies from a church on a breeze! To laugh like a brook when it trips and falls over stones on its way! To sing through the night like a lark who is learning to pray!"

Fantine turned abruptly when a loud, familiar sound dimmed against her ear drum. It was the church bells she'd heard oh so many times times before. 'Oh, drat!" she thought, picking up her shoes and making a beeline for the abbey at the base of her hills. Remembering her wimple, the nun-to-be stumbled back over and grabbed the piece, consequently losing herself in the sight of the yellow sun. Fantine sighed and pressed a hand to her heart, drinking it in.

"I go to the hills when my heart is lonely! I know I will hear what I heard before! My heart will be blessed with the sound of music! And I'll sing once more...!"

Meanwhile in the abbey, Rev. Mother Musichetta was having a very heated discussion with visiting priest, Father Montparnasse, before the Bishop. The old holy man sighed and rolled his eyes at the younger (but still got along) children of the church before him. He didn't regularly find himself visiting the abbey or parishes in his old age, but Father Montparnasse had called him forth in what he had worded as "a serious issue concerning the church's reputation." As it turned out, the issue was within the ability of the training nun, Fantine. Apparently, Fantine and two other training nuns had visited Fr. Montparnasse's parish and Fantine had shown nothing but ill-practice. So much that the Father had returned her to the abbey with a letter asking if they'd just picked a random girl from the street and instructed her to play nun. This had thus angered Musichetta, the Rev. Mother. She found that Fantine was capable and quite the quick learner, and that the Father could not request her leave just because of her youth and malexperience.

"My, my," the Bishop finally spoke, stepping forward and drawing the two apart. "Where in our scripture does it say we should argue about who is capable of performing the will of our Lord? What testament may I find it in, won't you tell?"

"It isn't there," grumbled Montparnasse. "But all I'm saying-"

The Bishop raised an eyebrow in mock confusion. "It isn't there?"

Montparnasse opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He frowned and looked down, rasping out a low, "No, your Grace."

"Exactly," the Bishop firmed, a smile spreading over ancient teeth and red gums.

"Your Grace?" Musichetta requested.

The Bishop turned his body and have the Mother his full attention. "Yes?"

"Please do not take Fantine from us. She is capable of being a nun! She just needs to... to..."

"To not be Fantine," interjected the Father rudely.

"Enough!" called the Bishop. He stepped forward and waved over three sisters. "Sisters, what do you think of Sister Fantine?"

The first one, Sister Madeleine, a muscular looking woman with ginger curls peaking slightly, stepped forward.

"Yes, Sister Madeleine?" Musichetta addressed the nun.

"I just want to say I think Sister Fantine is a very good nun," the Sister hummed her approval. Then, she back tracked, "Except when she's not such a good nun..."

Montparnasse raised a hand as if to say, 'see what I mean?' The Bishop kindly waved him off and watched as a second nun, this one being well into her late thirties and sporting a pair of cracked glasses.

"My, my, Sister Fauchelevent," the Mother scoffed, observing the nun's cracked glasses. "Whatever happened to your glasses?"

"I was taking a walk with Sister Azelma when I tripped and cracked them," she admitted. "I can't find my other pair."

Musichetta nodded. "Very well. We will see that we find you a new pair. And please, do try and be careful."

The Sister smiled and adjusted her glasses. "Sister Fantine is great fun. If only she could keep her head out of the clouds," she said.

The Bishop accepted her answer and turned to the final nun. "And you, Sister...?"

"Azelma," the young women said warmly. "Sister Azelma."

"Yes, Sister Azelma!"

"Oh, I love Sister Fantine very much," Azelma gushed, pressing her hands to her heart and hugging herself. "Although, she seems to always be in trouble."

"You see, your Grace?" roared Fr. Montparnasse. "She is not an asset to the abbey!"

"You have no say in who is or isn't an asset to the abbey!" shot back Mother. "Fantine just needs help to understand that she is a nun now and not a little girl!"

"She's been here ages! She climbs a tree and scrapes her knee, her dress has got a tear!"

"She waltzes on her way to mass and whistles on the stairs!" chimed Sister Fauchelevent.

"And underneath her wimple she has curlers in her hair!" added Montparnasse, earning mock gasps from the Sisters.

"I've even heard her singing in the abbey!" Sister Madeleine confessed, looking ashamed afterwards.

"She's always late for chapel-" Sister Frauchelevent brought forth.

"But her penitence is real!" sang Azelma.

Montparnasse grumbled and shot out an, "She's always late for everything-"

"Except for every meal!"

The Sisters giggled momentarily before Montparnasse sang, "I hate to have to say it but I firmly feel..."

"Maria's not an asset to the abbey!" finished the Sisters, their faces upset.

The Bishop seemed to let this tumble in his mind. He looked to Musichetta and frowned. Taking her chance, Musichetta stepped up, "I'd like to say a word on her behalf!"

"Then say it, Mother."

"Fantine make me laugh!"

The Sisters all nodded furiously in agreement, grinning.

"How do you solve a problem like Maria? How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? How do you find the word that means Maria? A flibbertigibbet, a willow the wisp, a clown!

"Many a thing you know you'd like to tell her! Many a thing she ought to understand! But how do you make her stay and listen to all you say! How do you keep a wave upon the sand? Oh, how do you solve a problem like Maria? How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?

Sister Madeleine stepped up and waved her wand for attention. "When I'm with her I'm confused, out of focus and bemused! And I never know exactly where I am!"

"Unpredictable as weather!" said Montparnasse.

"She's as flighty as a feather!" agreed Sister Frauchelevent.

"She's a darling!" Mother insisted, stepping toward the Father.

Montparnasse scoffed loudly and rasped, "She's a demon!"

"She's a lamb!" Musichetta near shouted.

"She'll out pester any pest, drive a hornet from it's nest!" sang Sister Madeleine.

"She could throw a whirling dervish out of whirl!" added Frauchelevent.

Sister Azelma let herself smile and point out, "She is gentle, she is wild!"

"She's a riddle, she's a child!" Sister Madeleine grinned, singing.

"She's a headache!" Montparnasse argued.

"She's an angel!" Musichetta fought back.

"She's a girl!" The Bishop announced, stepping forward with a weary smile on his face. He looked over the women and priest for a spell before their voices rang out again:

"How do you solve a problem like Maria? How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? How do you find the word that means Maria? A flibbertigibbet, a willow the wisp, a clown!

"Many a thing you know you'd like to tell her! Many a thing she ought to understand! But how do you make her stay and listen to all you say? How do you keep a wave upon the sand?"

Just then, Fantine ran into the abbey. He shows hit the cobblestones roughly, creating a terrible clacking noise with each rushed stomp. Her mind was repeating the mantra 'get in unnoticed' over and over until she didn't even have to think about it anymore. She did, however, notice that she would look suspicious with flushed cheeks and dry mouth, so Fantine dipped over to the faucet and drank a handful of water down. The young woman picked her wimple back up and went to run again when she noticed the mob of disappointed nuns, a priest, and the Bishop himself stood before her. Fantine was, of course, completely done with trying, and slowly made her way back into the abbey.

Frowning slightly, the Bishop turned back to Musichetta and shrugged. Montparnasse grinned wickedly and pumped his arms in the air for call of celebration. The nuns all growled under their breath as they walked past him to follow Fantine's path.

With a great sigh, Mother stepped forward and breathed, "How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand...?"

Fantine sat on the bench outside Mother Musichetta's quarters. Again. Her back was improperly slumped forward, and she rest her elbows on her spread legs. She watched as her toes tapped the stony floor of the abbey, the clickity-clack satisfying her musical soul. Fantine didn't dare sing. Not in the abbey. Oh, she could hardly get over that she'd sung without permission outside the abbey today. But she did feel she had a good reason, and with reason their is purpose or something like a helpful quote... The hills were just so green and the birds were singing and the clouds were puffy and white! How could she not be a part of that?

Fantine was so engrossed in her thoughts that she barely noticed when Musichetta waved her inside. With trembling knees, Fantine rushed inside and placed a kiss to the Mother's hand, spewing a sloppy apology.

"I do not want an apology," Musichetta said sternly. "I did not call you here for that."

"Oh, Reverend Mother, allow me to ask for forgiveness," begged Fantine. She dare not look up.

Musichetta inhaled deeply and gestured for Fantine to go on. "If it will make you feel better, go ahead."

"Thank you!" Fantine took a deep breath and leaned forward as she spoke, "It's just that I was doing my chores when I saw the sun, Mother! And I swear I could see the Heaven's glowing below it, I swear it if I could. How could I not run out to see the sun in all its beauty? The grass was green as ever and the birds were singing of that Castle I told you about! Heaven's kingdom, the Castle on a Cloud!"

"Yes, Sister, I recall you telling me of countless tales of your adventures to the Castle. In your dreams, of course," said Musichetta.

"Yes, that Castle!" Fantine confirmed, grinning and crowning at almost the same time. "The birds were singing of it, and they were beckoning me! I had to be a part of it, you understand, don't you?"

"I see. Well, Fantine, we must learn to resist. What is it that you have learned while in the abbey?" The Mother asked.

"To learn what is the will of God, and to live it wholeheartedly," answered Fantine.

Musichetta nodded in approval. "But have you learned to obey rules or use commen sense? What if it had fallen dark and you became lost?"

Fantine laughed at the question, shaking her head. She noticed her actions and cleared her throat to call attention from her rising blush. "That could never happen," she insisted as if it were elementary information. "Those are my hills. I grew up on them. They brought me to you! I would climb atop the trees and look over into your garden. I would hear the nuns singing on their way to chapel and I knew then I wanted what you had."

Mother Musichetta couldn't help but smile warmly. However, what had to be done had to be done. "Fantine, Father Montparnasse visited the abbey today with Bishop today to speak of your performance while visiting his parish. He wanted you to be taken from abbey. After much consideration, the Bishop thinks it best you leave."

"Leave?!" Fantine gasped. Tears were stinging her eyes and she squeezed them shut tight.

"No, no, no, my child!" Musichetta discovered her mistake. "Only temporarily."

"I can't leave the abbey!" the young woman demanded. "This is my home, my family!"

"It is to see that you learn," Musichetta sighed. She stood and crossed the desk to cup Fantine's face in her hands. She noticed the young woman's trembling lip and help a finger up to signal she stop that nonsense right away. "You will be fine. You shall become a governess for a retired and highly decorated naval hero, Captain Valjean."

"A captain?" Fantine gasped, no longer upset and now mesmerised by the thought of a captain.

"Yes. He has seven children and has been left with them after their mother died. He's been having trouble keeping a governess, which is why I trust you will not follow the line of women."

She was shocked. "Seven?!"

"You love children, Fantine," Musichetta gasped.

"Yes, I know, but seven?" Fantine spout, gobsmacked.

"I'm assured you'll find a way. Now off you go."

There were no words after that. The only sound that Fantine could hear was the subtle tapping of shoe against stone as she made her way across the abbey.

Seven children? How was she supposed to handle that? She'd never as much as babysat, let alone serve as governess! Fantine could barely control herself, now she had seven children to order and care for? Saints preserve, how was she to manage?


	2. A Captain and his Crew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fantine finally meets the family and the feels are on high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We meet our sweeties :) Umn, so I had some confusion about how Jehan is allowed to have a braid, and Jehan has short hair that sort of falls around his head, but behind his ear is an unusually long set of strands, and his mam used to braid it before she died, and he fell in love with it. It's literally a tiny braid that ends at the ear lobe and starts at his forehead. Gavroche's hair is also tied back, but a lot of hair sticks out because Valjean tried to have it cut before but it just wouldn't because no so it just looks a mess. Cuties :3

The anticipated day had arrived. A harsh tension had settled about the abbey when news of Fantine's position as the Valjean's governess got round. Sisters Fauchelevent and Madeleine found themselves struck with such a strong guilt whenever they saw Fantine walk past. The training nun was no longer the cheery free spirit they had known her as, and now she simply walked through the day, going about the motions with lack of passion or purpose. Mother Musichetta was relieved when they day that Fantine leave came.

The young woman dressed herself in her only other dress, a rather tacky, greyish blue one with big black buttons and a fair share of moth balls. Fantine also put on a shabby grey shawl and a gaudy orange sunhat before setting out. She was hesitant as she closed the gate. Was this really what God wanted of her? Was she supposed to just try her best? Failure was so likely here. What if she did a horrid job? With a sigh, Fantine finally shut the gate and walked out into the sun.

"It is said whenever The Lord closes one door," she muttered, "he opens a window somewhere. Lord, help me find that window."

The walk to the carrage stop was long and boring. Fantine barely made steps, her feet moving an inch at most.

"What will this day be like? I wonder.  
What will my future be? I wonder.  
It could be so exciting to be out in the world, to be free  
My heart should be wildly rejoicing  
Oh, what's the matter with me?

I've always longed for adventure  
To do the things I've never dared  
And here I'm facing adventure  
Then why am I so scared

A captain with seven children  
What's so fearsome about that?

Oh, I must stop these doubts, all these worries  
If I don't I just know I'll turn back  
I must dream of the things I am seeking  
I am seeking the courage I lack

The courage to serve them with reliance  
Face my mistakes without defiance  
Show them I'm worthy  
And while I show them  
I'll show me

So, let them bring on all their problems  
I'll do better than my best  
I have confidence they'll put me to the test  
But I'll make them see I have confidence in me

Somehow I will impress them  
I will be firm but kind  
And all those children (Heaven bless them!)  
They will look up to me

And mind me with each step I am more certain  
Everything will turn out fine  
I have confidence the world can all be mine  
They'll have to agree I have confidence in me

I have confidence in sunshine  
I have confidence in rain  
I have confidence that spring will come again  
Besides which you see I have confidence in me

Strength doesn't lie in numbers  
Strength doesn't lie in wealth  
Strength lies in nights of peaceful slumbers  
When you wake up - Wake Up!

It tells me all I trust I lead my heart to  
All I trust becomes my own  
I have confidence in confidence alone..."

She stopped before the big gates and looked within to see the large, intimidating home. Seven children and a captain. Lord, give her His blessings. The bright grin returned to her face as she opened the gate and flat out sprinted to the door (tripping slightly on the way).

"I have confidence in confidence alone...  
Besides which you see I have confidence in me!"

Fantine stopped before the door and jammed her finger against the bell. Then, she caught the breath she hasn't known she'd lost. Soon, a tall man wearing a polish pin and an orphan blue shirt beneath his black best answered the door. Fantine noted that he didn't look much like a captain. He wasn't thin, but he wasn't built either. His fingers were long and delicate, as if he folded fans for a living. However, Fantine also noticed the warm smile upon his face, joining an expression that spoke, "I wish to hug the world and all of its children!" Still, not much of a captain.

"I'm here!" Fantine announced gleefully.

The man raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Fantine continued, "I'm the new governess! Mademoiselle Fantine from the abbey! Nice to meet you, Captain!"

A hearty laugh rang from the throat of the man, causing Fantine to frown. "I'm not the Captain," he said. "I'm the butler, Feuilly."

"Oh!"

"Here, let me take your bags. Come in."

Feuilly grabbed her suitcase and guitar case, holding the door open with his foot and eyeing for Fantine to dash inside. He found himself beside her in the foyer, and he softly placed her belongings by her feet.

Fantine took the chance to observe the house from the inside. It was a grand house with a high ceiling and marble columns to support the dome that served as roof. She could see her own reflection in the golden yellow tiles that covered the floor, and the walls were such a clean white her eyes began to hurt. From the door opened a marble grand staircase that went up two directions into the second floor. Smooth, oak doors lined the walls with ornate knobs. The place was so clean Fantine feared she would be exiled if she simply scuffed her boots against the banister.

"The Captain will be here to evaluate you momentarily, Mademoiselle Fantine," Feuilly informed her warmly. "And then I suppose he will bring forth the children. Your room is upstairs. In fact, I'm due to prepare it right now."

"Oh!" Fantine gasped, being shook from her thoughts. "Thank you, sir."

He grinned and extended his hand, which Fantine gladly shook. "Just call me Feuilly."

"Alright... Thank you, Feuilly."

"You're welcome. See you."

Feuilly happily bounded up the stairs, the taps beneath his shoes making a wonderful noise with each step. Fantine watched him go up until he disappeared and she could no longer follow. Now, a good person with common sense would have simply stayed in place and waited for her employer to come forth, but this was Fantine, and sometimes her curiosity got the best of her. Slowly, the young governess walked around the room, looking at the ornaments and decorative pieces scattered tastefully about. On the right side of the room she noticed three golden oak doors with elegant knobs and designs upon them. She couldn't resist but slowly slink over and open the doors.

Her eyes were met with an eye-popping, heart-stopping, and jaw-dropping beauty of a grand ball room. The walls had lovely designs of flowers and vines upon them, and at ends of the room hung the French flag in all its glory. A stage was set at the side of the ballroom where Fantine guessed a band would set themselves. The young governess looked down and almost jumped in delight when she noticed the shiny art of heaven's kingdom below her feet on the ground. Her Castle on a cloud.

Fantine could not help herself. She stepped to the center of the dance floor and curtsied softly to nobody. Her arms lightened, lifted upwards, and wrapped around her invisible partner's body. Fantine swayed gracefully to her in invisible orchestra, humming along to a made-up tune. She could almost hear... almost hear him...

"Excuse me!"

Fantine gulped and turned around. There, in all his glory, stood Captain Valjean. He did not look amused.

"Mademoiselle, you will take note that some rooms in this house need be left undisturbed," he snapped, swiftly turning upon his heel and marching from the room before Fantine could even nod.

The governess followed him. She almost ran into his back, she was so nervous. Valjean looked her open with judging eyes. Eyes that looked devoid of hope or love. And yet he was a beautiful man. Mother Musichetta had said he was in his mid-forties, but he barely looked a day or thirty-one. His hair had great color. Not a speck of grey. Valjean was a man who stood rim-rod straight with his heels touched and toes pointed. Valjean just gave off the idea of maturity and power.

"Turn around."

Fantine shook herself from her thoughts. "Excuse me?" she parroted, heavily confused.

"I said turn around," Valjean repeated sternly. "Are you known for being so horrid at following directions?"

"Yes, actually," Fantine admitted.

Valjean raised a concerned eyebrow, but that only lasted a second. "Turn around so I may judge your appearance."

Still wondering what the feck was going on, Fantine starting spinning in circles.

"Slower!" Valjean barked.

She tensed and slowed down.

"Hat off."

Hat was removed.

Valjean looked her up and down once more, tutting disapprovingly. "No, no, no. Your dress. You'll have to change before meeting the children," he said.

"But I only have this one," Fantine told him.

"You honestly have no other clothes?" Valjean questioned, staring at her as if she were an alien who'd come to his door asking to have his next baby.

Fantine nodded slowly and smiled. "Yes. When we enter the abbey we give all our worldly possessions to the poor."

"And this one?" Valjean asked, gesturing to her apparel.

Fantine looked herself down. "The poor didnt want this one."

"Of course not," he mumbled. "Mademoiselle, since the mother of my children has died, we have had a long line of twelve governesses. I hope you can do a fine job."

"I'll try my hardest, sir."

"Good. As governess, you will push them in their studies. I will not have them dreaming away their summer holidays. After lunch they are to take a walk outside, breathing deeply. Be-"

"Excuse me, sir. When do they play?"

"-dtime is to be strictly observed. Now, stand back and I'll summon them."

What the Captain did next, well, Fantine surely had not expected. Valjean pulled from his pocket a silver whistle, one that mocked one to summon a pet. He blew into it sharply. At the string of notes, the loud clatter of feet against wood rang about the house. Captain Valjean noticed that his children were lined at the head of the stairs, a signal to begin the march tempo. Six set of feet beat against the steps as they marched military style before Fantine and Captain Valjean. Six children...?

From the next room came a young boy. In his hands was a book, and he was taking his sweet time in the progress of getting to point A to point B. Fantine wondered what the book was about. Valjean, however, was not thinking this. He stepped forward and yanked the book from the boy, causing his glasses to go slack on his face. The little child fixed his frames and turned justly where he earned a powerful whack upon the rear in punishment.

"Now!" bellowed Valjean. "Children, this is your new governess, Mademoiselle Fantine. Mademoiselle, I will whistle each child's signal and you will try to recognise them. Children, when you hear your signal, step forward and say your name."

Valjean brought the whistle back to his lips. He played the first pattern and a tall boy with blond waves for hair and blue eyes stepped swiftly forward, shouting, "Enjolras!" proudly.

A second pattern and a girl stepped up. Fantine instantly fell in love with her innocent face, beautiful blonde hair, and soft voice. "Cosette!"

A third pattern earned the name of "Courfeyrac!" Courfeyrac was a small boy with curly dark hair that looked as though it was being forced down by all the gel smothered atop it.

Yet a fourth pattern. Here, a second girl with dark hair and strong features jumped up. "Eponine!"

Fifth pattern greeted "Combeferre!" Combeferre had been the boy with the book, and the poor dear looked like his glasses were barely staying on his face. He did, however, looked like he had everything under control. It didn't matter what it was that needed to be controlled, you knew Combeferre had it handled.

Fantine heard the sixth pattern and there stood a stunning boy with a very small braid behind his ear and flowers dancing in his curls. Valjean brushed them out. "Jean!"

Valjean whistled one more pattern, one that was rather out here and difficult. The last, tiniest child stepped forward. He made no noise. The child was obviously young, yet obviously so mature. His hair was painfully blond and tied back in the worst fashion. It appeared that the Captain had tried to cut it once or twice, but the boy's locks were much too strong.

"Uh," Valjean muttered. "That's Gavroche."

The Captain walked up his line once more. Enjolras was instructed to stick out his chest and Combeferre's glasses were cleaned. When Valjean was yet again beside Fantine, from his pocket he thrust forth a bronze whistle to mimic his own.

"Now, Mademoiselle, we'll see how well you listened," muttered he.

Fantine looked at the whistle. Oh, no. No. Uh uh. That wasn't going to fly. "I'm afraid I won't be needing that," she said. Valjean gave her a stern glare. "I mean- I can just use their names. And what beautiful names they are."

Valjean huffed, "Mademoiselle, this is a large house. The grounds expand greatly. I will not have anyone shouting. Take this whistle and learn how to use it. The children will help you. Now, when I want you, this is what you'll hear."

He brought his lips around the whistle and let out a few notes before Fantine almost flat out wrenched the whistle from his hands.

"No, sir!" she snapped. "I am sorry, sir, but it would be too embarrassing. Whistles are for cats and dogs, but not for people, not for children, and certainly not for me."

The children giggled and with a single stomp of his foot, Valjean brought on every silence. "Mademoiselle," he spoke quietly, just above a whisper, "were you this much trouble at the abbey?"

"Oh! Much more, sir!" Fantine answered.

One last stern glance and Captain Valjean was stalking gallantly to what Fantine supposed was his study. She couldn't help but dislike this man slightly. But, no fear, for glorious Fantine saw something there. Poor dear. The Captain was obviously dealing with the loss of his wife, and there were seven grand fragments of she to remind him daily of her. Fantine made it her goal to help this family. This was why God had sent her here. Then, an idea hit her. How dreadful.

SCREEEEE!

The Captain spun around slowly. Fantine took the whistle from her lips. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know your signal."

Valjean sighed and turned away. "You may call me Captain." and stalked off.

"Well!" she said, although her voice lacked confidence, "Now that it's just us, we can really get to know one another. Why don't you each take turns and tell me your name and how old you are."

The oldest with that lovely hair of gold stepped forward. "I'm Enjolras," he spoke strong. "I'm sixteen, and I don't need a governess."

The governess frowned slightly at the seriousness held pure in Enjolras's tone. "Then I guess we'll just be good friends then," she said.

Her blonde hair bouncing gracefully on her shoulders in two neat plaits, the second oldest stepped forward. Her voice flowed light and soft, "And mines Cosette. I'm fourteen. I'm impossible."

"Who told you that?" Fantine asked, amused.

"Mademoiselle Josephine. Four governesses ago," she answered.

"Okay then. And you?" Fantine asked the third child, the boy with curly locks and a playful smile.

"Combeferre!"

Fantine smirked. "Uh, you didn't tell me how old you are, Courfeyrac."

The third youngest stepped forward. The darling boy had to fix his glasses once more before speaking. "I'm Combeferre, that's Courfeyrac. He's twelve years old, and you're smart. I'm ten, and I think your dress is one of the ugliest I've ever seen."

The kid in between them smacked Combeferre on the arm lightly, but hard enough that his glasses slipped again. "Combeferre!" the dark-haired girl snapped. "You shouldn't say that!"

"It's true!" Combeferee insisted.

"Of course it is," Eponine agreed. "But Mademoiselle Belle's was uglier."

Biting her lip, Fantine directed her attention towards the speaking girl. "Who are you?"

"I'm Eponine," she answered. "I'm twelve. I'm incouragable."

"Good for you," Fantine said cheerfully. Funny dear.

Eponine furrowed her brows. "What's incouragable?" she questioned pensively.

This made Fantine think shortly. "I think," said she, "it means you want to be treated like a girl."

Eponine accepted this answer with a nod. The tiny boy with braids and flowers walked up to Fantine and tugged at the Mademoiselle's sleeve. "I'm Jean," he slurred. Fantine noticed the lisp appreciatively in the boy's poetic voice. "But I like to be called Jehan. I'm going to be seven on Tuesday, and I'd like a pink parasol with daisies."

Fantine smiled and lowered herself to his level. "Pinks my color, too," she said. One of Jehan's flowers was falling from his braid, and Fantine hesitantly wove it back into the hair. Jehan grinned brightly and stepped back.

Impatient, Gavroche stomped his foot upon the ground and motioned for Fantine. "Right," mumbled Fantine. "You're Gavroche?"

Gavroche nodded in approval and help up five fingers.

"You're five?" Fantine asked.

Another nod.

"My, you're practically a man. You look like the man of the house."

The girls giggled, so did Jehan and Courfeyrac, however Enjolras and Combeferre looked purely insulted by this statement.

Fantine stepped before them all. "I should have you know I'm new to this," she admitted with scarlet cheeks. "I've never been a governess, so I'll need lots of advice."

Cosette's lips formed a crooked smirk. "You mean you know nothing about being a governess?"

"Nothing!" she said. "I'm going to need lots of help!"

The children exchanged mischievous looks. Enjolras walked over friendly-like. "Well first you should tell pap to mind his own business!" he growled.

"Always show up to dinner late!" shrieked Courfeyrac.

"Talk during dessert!" came Eponine.

"Always slurp your soup," advised Combeferre. He made a horrid mock slurping noise. Fantine was overwhelmed beyond belief. Then, she felt a tiny hand pulling at her sleeve. Gavroche.

"You don' lis'en to 'em, Fräulein!" he ordered fiercely.

"And why not?" Fantine questioned.

"'Cause I like yew!" Gavroche said. "Yew'll be nice! Yew're a righ' good gove'ness!"

Fantine smiled softly at the little boy and his kind words. The kitchen door slammed open and out rushed a worried looking man. "Come now, children!" he called, pushing the children towards the door. "It is time for your walk! Captain's orders! Make sure that you do wash up when you come back inside, no tracking those gruesome germs in here."

He turned to Fantine and smiled. However, he didn't extend his hand to shake or bend over to kiss her palm. "You must be the new governess," he said. "I'm Monsieur Joly, the housekeeper. Let me take you to your room."

They started to the stairs when Fantine felt something move in her pocket. She stuck her hand inside and grabbed around. Her hands met something slimy, and the woman shrieked as the frog emerged from her pocket and followed the children out the door.

Joly tutted and continued, unfazed. "You're lucky," he told her. "With Mademoiselle Morgane it was a snake!"


	3. Dinner and a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras runs off to see the boy next door, and Gavroche gets all snugly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras is so out of character and so is R but you know what I don't even care let's all get drunk. Also... cliff hanger hahahah ahahahahahahahaha
> 
> okay time to be serious. I am so sorry about how long this took me to write. It has been finals week and I'm just full of busy and grawh my life... But on the brighter side, I get out in four days. Also, my birthday is in seven so woop woop. Please tell me if you wish me to continue.
> 
> As well, I have been asked on tumblr (ifoundmythrill-onblueberryhill) for another crossover. I'm giving you guys some options if you would like that:
> 
> Avenue Q, A Man of No Importance, Newsies, Bare, Once Upon a Mattress, West Side Story, or Grease
> 
> I'm willing to do multiples, but I must pace myself, and I'm planning a new fic. SPEAKING OF THUS FIC... It should be out either later today or tomorrow afternoon. I may even have it in by my lunch break.
> 
> And I will warn you all that I am attending college for a month come next Sunday, so yeah...
> 
> Lastly, my Modern AU Les Mis roleplay needs a Bossuet for our Joly and Chetta very badly, and if you're interested go to .com WE ALSO HAVE CANON ROLES OPEN AND ALLOW OC AUDITIONS. Please check it out. Please.
> 
> Alright, love you. Don't get mugged and murdered on me.

She was late. Why was she always late? Why couldn't she get herself together and do her job well? Just this once? Just this once it would be nice to do something right, you know. But no. She was late for her first meal with the Valjean family.

It wasn't entirely her fault, though. When she had gotten to her room, Joly said she looked rather tired, and a trifle filthy, and that a good bath would probably delight the Captain. A bath had sounded nice, so Fantine agreed.

She had watched as Joly filled the tub with clear water and pink bubbles. The bathroom smelled of roses and the room was nice and warm from the fireplace. Joly set out some towels and utensils, then was on his way. Fantine disrobed carefully and took the nicest bath she'd taken in ages. The bubbles danced across her skin and warmed her belly. Her cut hair felt soft when she ran her fingers through it with shampoo. It'd been so heavenly, so nice...

And now she was late.

Fantine ran into the dining room where the family Valjean were sitting impatiently. The children watched her walk to her chair at the end of the table, and the Captain glared. Scarlet, she sat down and was instantly greeted by an uncomfortable prodding.

"WOAH!" she yelled, shooting upward. The children giggled but Valjean cut them off.

"A shouting method?" Valjean asked snidely. "Something you learned at the abbey?"

Fantine looked at the pine cone, then to the children. "No," she answered. "It's, uh... roomitism." Carefully, she brushed away the object of bother and sat down again.

The meal began, and she watched in confusion as the children and Valjean ate. "Excuse me?" she said, calling attention to herself.

"What is it?" said Valjean.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but haven't we forgotten to thank The Lord?" Fantine said. Valjean rolled his eyes but set down his utensils and put his hands together.

"For what we are about to recieve," prayed Fantine, "may The Lord make us truly grateful. In the Savior Jesus's name we pray, amen."

A mumbled amen followed, and the eating continued. Fantine ate silently for a while, taking note of the guilty faces of the children. This gave her another idea.

"I want to thank you all for the precious gift you gave me," she said offhandedly.

Valjean furrowed his brows. "What gift?"

"Oh!" Fantine smiled softly. "I'm afraid that's between the children and me."

"Yes," he hummed. "Then I advise it stays that way."

Another guilt-ridden silence.

"Knowing how nervous is was," continued Fantine, "it was so nice to be made welcome."

She'd hit home. Jehan buried his face in his hands, his braid falling out, and wept silently.

"For the love... Jean, what is it now?" snapped Valjean, obviously annoyed.

"It's nothing!" whimpered Jehan. He continued to cry, and soon Gavroche joined him, with Courfeyrac, Cosette, and Eponine following suite. Enjolras looked at Combeferre, daring the little one to cry. He kept his composure, but he shook and shivered while his glasses fogged up repeatedly. Enjolras looked purely annoyed and continued eating, giving his father a face that read how stupid he found all of this.

"Mademoiselle," came Valjean. Fantine looked up innocently. "Is it every meal or only supper that you insist upon leading us down this uncomfortable road of indigestion?"

The governess looked around at the sobbing children and the annoyed Enjolras. "Oh, they're just happy," she said.

Outside, a fresh, young man rode up to the home on his bike (did bikes even exist in the 1800s? they do now). He stopped at the door and pressed against the bell, hearing the buzz and then the sound of footsteps.

"Grantaire!" greeted Feuilly, stepping outside and securing the door behind him.

"Hello, Feuilly," the boy said. "How are things?"

"Fine." The butlers voice dropped, "Are there... any developments?"

"Perhaps," came Grantaire, vague. "Is the Captain home?"

"He's having dinner," answered Feuilly.

"With the family?" R questioned further.

"Of course."

"Deliver this to him at once," the delivery boy answered, thrusting a telegram into the man's hand.

"Of course. See you, Grantaire." Feuilly went back inside and R drove off on his bike into the starry night.

Feuilly entered the dining room, where dessert had started and the tears had dried. The usually eery silence was still there. The butler cleared his throat and smiled at the Captain. "A telegram, sir."

"Thank you, Feuilly," said Valjean, setting aside his spoon and taking the envelope.

Enjolras's eyes lit up and he jumped in his seat, holding up a hand to stall the butler. "Feuilly!"

Feuilly turned around and raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Enjolras bit his lip to try and calm his spreading grin (to no avail). "Who delivered it?" he asked.

"The Javert boy, Grantaire, of course," the butler answered. "By the way, that talented lad painted me a picture of Poland a month ago. I really should get around to paying him. He said no charge but I feel so bad..."

"Father." Enjolras cut of the Poland-loving speech of the happy butler a little rudely, but Feuilly took no insult. "Father, may I be excused?"

"Yes, I suppose so," answered Valjean. He opened the telegram under the attention of the entire table (spare Enjolras, who had crossed to the punch table beside the dining sets). His eyes coldly ran down the page, taking in each word. When it appeared he had finished, the Captain folded the telegram back up and set it down beside his plate. "Children," he said, "looks like I'll be leaving for Troyes tomorrow morning."

A chorus of moans and groans rang out among the children. "Ah, father!" "Father, no!" "Really, Father?"

"SILENCE!"

Silence came.

Valjean glared at the six children still at the table. They all looked down in shame. Poor souls, thought Fantine.

"I will be leaving tomorrow for Troyes," Valjean repeated.

"Probably to see the baroness," said Courfeyrac offhandedly.

"Now, Courfeyrac!" shouted Eponine.

Valjean held up a hand for stalling. "Yes, actually," he said. "And I'm bringing back uncle Felix."

"Yay! Uncle Felix!"

"Uncle Felix!"

"Oh, I love Uncle Felix!"

Fantine smiled warmly at the obvious excitement of the children. She'd never met this Uncle Felix, but he seemed like a proper good man to bring such joy to these poor children's hearts. She noticed their genuine smiles. She also noticed Enjolras tip toe from the dining hall and out the front door...

Enjolras grinned proudly, his white teeth twinkling against the stars and moonlight, as he rushed down the front steps. He all but sprinted into the garden.

"Grantaire!" he called, tripping on his feet.

From about a tree came the curly-haired delivery boy. Just as Enjolras seemed to lose his graceful step, Grantaire caught the boy in his arms and pulled him into a loving hug. Enjolras sighed in content and wrapped his arms tightly around his secret lover.

"Hello, Apollo..."

"Oh, Grantaire!" he gasped, feeling the other boy's fingers ringing through his hair.

Just as he was there, he disappeared. "Enjolras, we mustn't."

"We mustn't?" Enjolras gaped, mocking perplex. "Then why else are you waiting out here for me."

Grantaire seemed to let this mill over in his mind. He took his sweet time, allowing Enjolras to swoon at his boyfriend.

Grantaire had dark, curly hair that came around his ears in the wild way that Courfeyrac's would without the disastrous grease his father wove through it. But R's was softer and lovelier by far.

He had a strong body, and was tall and lithe. He had even developed a strong set of abs from biking everywhere. And his hands were calloused from grasping paintbrushes and handlebars. But they were a new type of pleasure when they ran over Enjolras's skin.

Then there was his set of blazing, icy blue eyes. While Grantaire said that his colour was none to match Enjolras's own deep sea blue eyes, Enjolras would have it no other way when he gazed upon the other.

But it was those cherry red lips that Enjolras loved most. They were so thin (but Enjolras couldn't help but imagine how irresistible they'd look kiss-swollen) and rose-petal pink. Enjolras couldn't stand the way Grantaire always bit and licked them when he was thinking.

"I've missed you, Enjolras," R finally spoke.

Enjolras smiled knowingly. "How much?"

"So much," the curly-haired boy said, "that I almost wrote you a telegram, just so I could deliver it here!"

"How lovely!" Enjolras cooed. "Why don't you?"

Grantaire raised a confused eyebrow. "Why don't I what?"

"Write me a telegram!" gasped Enjolras, throwing his arms up with a grin.

"But I'm already here!"

"Oh, come on, R," Enjolras muttered. "Write me a telegram. I'll start it for you; Dear Enjolras..."

"Dear Enjolras," parroted the delivery boy. "I'd like to tell you how I feel about you. Stop. Unfortunately, this wire is already too expensive. Sincerely, R."

"Sincerely?" Enjolras repeated, looking hurt.

"Cordially?" Grantaire attempted.

"Huff!" Enjolras turned away and crossed his arms. Grantaire sat beside him. "Cordially?!"

R scooted thigh to thigh with Enjolras. "Affectionately?" he tried one last time.

A smile spread across the blonde's face and he threw his arms around the other, humming in content. Grantaire nuzzled his neck and rubbed his back. "Will there be any reply?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Enjolras pulled away, his hands still on the other boy's shoulders, and spoke, "Dear Grantaire. Stop. Don't stop! Your Enjolras."

"My Enjolras..."

"It horrible having to wait for Papa to get a telegram," whined Enjolras. "How do we know when we'll see each other again?"

Grantaire thought. "I could come here by accident," he said. "With the telegram for Colonel Thóylmes! He's right- oh. Well, no one is supposed to know he's here."

"Why is he here?" the blonde questioned, interested.

"You see, they're getting ready to- Well... Don't tell your Father, he could find himself in a bad spot or something," R said.

"Why are you worried about Papa?" asked Enjolras.

"Because he's not a Bonupartist," answered R.

Enjolras laughed, "None of us are Bonupartists, R."

"Yeah, well some people think we should be," he explained. "And they're very cross with those who don't agree."

"You shouldn't worry about Papa, he's a big naval hero! He was even decorated by General Lamarque!" said Enjolras.

R smiled and fondly patted the other boy's knee. "I don't worry about your father. But I do worry about his son."

"Me?" Enjolras gasped, slightly taken aback. "Why me?"

"Because you're such a baby!"

"I'm sixteen, what's so baby about that?"

Grantaire grinned wide and crossed his legs.

"You wait little boy  
On an empty stage  
For fate to turn the light on

Your life little boy  
is an empty page  
the world will want to write on..."

Enjolras smirked and leaned in close, making R almost fall off the bench. "To write on..."

The curly-haired boy regained his composure, yet still hung off the edge of the bench. He was here to make a point.

"You are 16 going on 17  
Baby its time to think  
Better beware  
Be canny and careful  
Baby you're on the brink

You are 16 going on 17  
Fellows will fall in line  
Eager young lads  
And grueways and cads   
Will offer you fruit and wine

Totally unprepared are you  
To face a world of men  
Timid and shy and scared are you   
Of things beyond your ken

You need someone  
Older and wiser  
Telling you what to do  
I am 17 going on 18   
I'll take care of you!"

In all honestly, offering his love was not R's plan. It was what he wanted to do, just not the plan! It was inappropriate right? Not without her father's blessing, and he knew very well he would not receive Captain Valjean's blessing.

However, Enjolras could not have cared less, and he gleefully wrapped his arms around the delivery boy. At first, R returned the embrace, but then his mind returned and he pushed him away softly, holding up a hand to stall him. Enjolras grew cross and began to walk away, and R followed after him. He reached out for the blonde's shoulder, and the sixteen-year-old turned around sharply. He looked at the other's extended hand, and he simply shook it. R rolled his eyes at the sass and chased the other boy around a tree, finally taking his hand and sitting on the bench. Just then, it began to rain. Enjolras looked at a loss, but Grantaire tugged him under the gazebo. He stood in the opening and watched the thunder boom and lightening crash. Then, he felt a sharp tapping on his shoulder. The seventeen-year-old swiveled his head to look and saw Enjolras, grinning like an idiot.

"I am 16 going on 17  
I know that i'm naive  
Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet  
And willingly I believe

I am 16 going on 17 innocent as a rose  
Bachelor dandies  
Drinkers of brandies  
What do I know of those

Totally unprepared am I  
To face a world of men  
Timid and shy and scared am I   
Of things beyond my ken

I need someone  
Older and wiser  
Telling me what to do  
You are 17 going on 18   
I'll depend on you..."

Enjolras was now standing upon the bench in front of R. He was running his fingers through Grantaire's curls, and the seventeen-year-old could do nothing but allow his mouth to slack and eyes to roll back into his head in delight. He had been so wrapped up in Enjolras's heavenly fingers that he barely expected the blond to fall down and into his arms. Luckily, Grantaire caught him in a dip, their faces barely three inches apart. They were so close, especially their lips. If R moved his head just a bit then he could...

No.

Grantaire stood him upward and set his hands up to signal that they should not be doing the thing he oh, so wanted to be doing, because hot damn look at those lips and those curls...

No.

They stopped just standing there and R allowed Enjolras to shorten the distance between them to a few inches. Their clothing was hilarious opposites, what with Enjolras in his nice dinner wear; a beige dress shirt beneath a royal red vest with golden snaps and black slacks, all complemented by a black jacket with red sown into it that it seemed to be chocolate strawberry colored; and Grantaire in his simple, faded blue telegram delivery suit. Enjolras grinned and danceed with the other for a spell before R pushed him away softly. The force sent them flying to opposite ends of the gazebo, and they locked eyes.

Enjolras's heart skipped a beat, and the pair of them stood and spun towards each other until they came chest to chest.

No.

They reversed, and yet again met.

No.

Another set of spins and they were pressed against each other. Enjolras went to move away again, but Grantaire grabbed the boy by the biceps and pulled him in. Their lips met in a slow, soft kiss. It was over as soon as it had begun, but it still left each boy breathless. Grantaire hit the ground running with a huge grin on his face, and all Enjolras could do was throw his arms up in glee with a loud shriek:

"WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

A strange, high-pitched squeal beat against Fantine's eardrum, causing confusion on the governess. She decided it was probably her imagination and returned to preparing for bed. The door opened and Joly peaked his head inside. "Mademoiselle Fantine?" he said.

"Come in, Joly!" Fantine called back.

The man came in, carrying a stack of material in his arms. The material was pleasant and neutral colors that made Fantine happy. "Here, Mademoiselle," said Joly, handing them over. "The Captain had these sent for from in town."

"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, taking them in her hands. "This will be just fine."

"That's grand! Well, I guess I-"

"Joly?" Fantine interrupted. "Do you think I could ask the Captain for more material?"

Joly chuckled in disbelief. "How many dresses does a governess need?"

"Oh, not for me," Fantine giggled. "I want to make the children some play clothes."

Joly laughed sadly. "Mademoiselle, the Valjean children don't play. They march." The man looked over the drapes in the room. "The drapes, would you like them changed? We can order in for new ones."

"Uh, no, these are fine," said Fantine, confused.

"Hmm..." Joly licked his lips and left the room. "Still, new ones will be in order. Goodnight, Mademoiselle."

"Wait!" stopped Fantine. "If I ask the Captain about the material...?"

"He's leaving tomorrow."

"Yes, but how long will he be gone?"

"I have no idea. Last time he was there he stayed over a month. I shouldn't tell you, but I think the Captain is thinking very seriously about marrying the woman."

And without another word, he left.

Fantine was left to stand in confusion. She stared at the oak door for a while before walking to her bedside and clasping her hands together. She bowed her head and said a night time prayer:

"Dear Father, now I know why You sent me here. To help these children prepare for a new mother! And I pray that this will become a happy family in Thy sight. God bless the Captain. God bless Enjolras and Cosette. God bless Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Jehan, and little Gavroche. And I forgot the other girl... What's her name? Well, God bless what's-her-name! God bless the Reverend Mother and Sister Azelma... And everybody at the abbey..."

At this point, Enjolras had silently crawled in through the window and was trying to exit. From any view, it seemed completely impossible that Fantine could have seen the blond boy tip-toeing past, but somehow she did. Or at least it seemed so, and that had Enjolras fooled.

"And now, dear God, about Enjolras. Help him to know that I am his friend, and help him to tell me what he's been up to," the governess said loud enough for the teenager to hear.

Enjolras frowned and stepped forward, a look of fear across his face. "Are you going to tell on me?" he asked shakily.

Fantine cocked her head to signal that he stop talking. She then continued her nightly blessing, "Help me to be understanding so that I may guide his footsteps. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost... Amen."

The governess stood up and looked at the nervous teenager before her. Enjolras was soaking wet, and he had wrinkles and mud spots all over his lovely clothes. Fantine also noticed a mark on his upper arm that heavily resembled that of a hand. The sixteen-year-old looked up at her and opened his mouth repeatedly, but he wasn't saying anything.

"I went out for a walk," he finally spoke, "and someone locked the door, and I didn't want to wake anyone up and I saw your window open... You aren't going to tell Papa, are you?"

Fantine furrowed her eyebrows and crossed the room to look down the window. It was on the second floor, and there were no vines or ladders or ropes or, well, anything to climb up with. Just a few out of place bricks. "How did you climb up?" she asked.

"It's how we always get up to play tricks on the governesses," Enjolras said, not noticing the shock on his governess's face. "Courfeyrac can get up here with a jar full of spiders in one hand."

"Spiders?!" Fantine gasped, eyeing her bed. She returned to her calm, and continued, "Were you out walking alone?"

Enjolras made to speak, but simply shut his trap and shook his head in shame. Fantine, however, did try to hide her knowing smirk.

"Who is she?" she whispered, smiling.

"Actually... it's..."

"Wait!" Fantine giggled and put her hands on Enjolras's shoulders. "It's the telegram boy, isn't it?"

Enjolras nodded, a small smile appearing. The governess looked over his clothes and knew as well that everyone would notice. "You know, if we wash those out tonight, no one will notice by tomorrow. You can put these on."

The teen's face lit up and he took the night shirt and breeches from beneath the bed. Fantine wondered why they were there. The governess followed Enjolras to the bathroom and handed him a clean towel that Joly had brought up earlier. "You may as well get your hair dry," she said. "Put your clothes in the sink to soak, then we'll have a talk."

"I told you I didn't need a governess... Well, maybe I do," Enjolras confessed as he closed the door.

Smiling, Fantine walked over to her bed. Suddenly, she became cautious and flipped the comforter up.

No spiders.

In that moment a large boom of thunder vibrated the house, and like the lightening itself, Gavroche was in Fantine's doorway. His nightgown was over his feet and hands, but he still sucked his thumb through the too long fabric. His other hand was tangled in his hair. "Are you frightened, Gavroche?" Fantine asked calmly.

Gavroche nodded and ran over just as another bang was made audible. He sat beside Fantine on the bed and hid his face in her side. The poor dear was shaking, and all Fantine could do was hold his tiny form. "You're not afraid of a storm, are you?" she asked, but she noticed much to soon that he may be slightly insulted by that, and hastily added, "You can stay here with me until it's over."


	4. Castle on a Cloud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter. Enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Short chapter... So, uh, my rp still wants a Bossuet and a Combeferre. Please check it out at todaysgoneby-rp.tumblr.com
> 
> Check out my other fics please, and comment what you think.

Fantine was cradling young Gavroche in her arms when they heard another clap of thunder. Gav burrowed into her side and she rubbed his back. She could feel him relaxing, and the tiny boy opted for sucking on his thumb and snuggling the stuffed stocking bunny in his arms. Fantine could hear the water running in the bathroom, and Enjolras poked his bare torso out.

“May I bathe, Mademoiselle?” he asked, pointing to the mud on his shoulder and in his hair.

“Do whatever you may need to do,” Fantine said softly.

Gavroche curled into her side more and rested his head against her shoulder. “The storm makes me ‘ave nigh’mares,” he whimpered.

“Oh, darling,” Fantine murmured, running her fingers through his hair. “Well, when I go to sleep I think about a Castle.”

“A castle?” he asked, sitting up.

Fantine nodded with a grin. “Yes! My Castle on a Cloud...

 _There is a castle on a cloud,_  
 _I like to go there in my sleep,_  
 _Aren't any floors for me to sweep,_  
 _Not in my castle on a cloud._  
  
 _There is a room that's full of toys,_  
 _There are a hundred boys and girls,_  
 _Nobody shouts or talks too loud,_  
 _Not in my castle on a cloud._  
  
 _There is a lady all in white,_  
 _Holds me and sings a lullaby,_  
 _She's nice to see and she's soft to touch,_  
 _She says "My dear, I love you very much."_  
  
 _I know a place where no one's lost,_  
 _I know a place where no one cries,_  
 _Crying at all is not allowed,_  
 _Not in my castle on a cloud_.”

Gavroche smiled brightly and took his thumb out of his mouth. “Do I get t’go there, too?” he asked.

“Yes, Gavroche, you can go!”

The tiny child squealed with joy and Fantine brought her hands to his stomach, tickling him until he was thrashing with happy laughter. This ended, of course, another crash of thunder was heard, and he was balled up in her arms again.

“You may stay here tonight, darling,” she cooed, rubbing soothing circles in his back. “All we have to do is wait for the others.”

“They won’ come, they not afraid.”

As if on cue, more thunder was heard and three shaking boys had ran into Fantine’s bedroom. Gavroche and Fantine shared a knowing look, and the two snickered before letting the others join their bed party.

“It’s alright, boys,” said Fantine. “We’ll all stick together tonight.”

“Thank God,” muttered Combeferre as he cleaned his glasses on his night shirt.

“Now we just wait for the girls,” Fantine hummed in content.

Jehan shook his head, the tiny braid hitting his ear. “The girls are big and brave, Mademoiselle. ‘Ponine knows her way around, and Cosette is strong willed.”

“Oh, really?” asked Fantine.

“That’s what Courfeyrac tells me.”

“It is true!” the curly haired boy shouted.

Yet another boom and all the children hid their heads and covered their ears. Fantine smiled as she heard two sets of feet beating against the floor as the girls ran into her room. The governess raised an eyebrow as they slowed down and tried to keep their cool.

“So nice of you to join us,” Fantine joked. She looked at the children tucked in beside her in bed, and then made room for the two new additions.

“We just wanted to check on you all,” Cosette said, sounding a lot like she was lying.

“What a lovely idea,” said the governess.

“Actually…” Cosette looked at her sister. “It was Eponine’s.”

“Éponine!” gasped Fantine. “That’s it! God bless Éponine.”

The children were all frightened by another clap of thunder. Little Gavroche began to cry into his stocking bunny, and Courfeyrac took him in his arms.

“What’s wrong?” the older boy asked.

“Why does the thunder do that?” Gavroche asked.

“Because the clouds are talking!” Fantine announced. “One cloud says something and the thunder answers back!”

“Well does it have to be so loud?” whined Jehan.

“It makes me want to cry,” Gavroche whimpered. “And I can’t sleep! If I can’t sleep, ‘ow do I get t’the Castle on t’Cloud?”

Fantine pursed her lips. They all looked so frightened and upset, she needed to calm their poor nerves. “Well,” said she, “whenever I’m feeling down, I sing about my favourite things.”

Courfeyrac turned towards her and asked, “What kind of things?”

Fantine shrugged. “Happy things, I guess,” she said. “Daffodils… Green meadows… Skies full of stars that keep order and light…

 _Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens_  
 _Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens_  
 _Brown paper packages tied up with strings_  
 _These are a few of my favorite things_  
  
 _Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels_  
 _Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles_  
 _Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings_  
 _These are a few of my favorite things_  
  
 _Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes_  
 _Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes_  
 _Silver white winters that melt into springs_  
 _These are a few of my favorite things_  
  
 _When the dog bites_  
 _When the bee stings_  
 _When I'm feeling sad_  
 _I simply remember my favorite things_  
 _And then I don't feel so bad_!”

Cosette jumped on the bed. “So it works?”

“Of course! What do you like?”

Gavroche grinned and squealed, “Pussy Willow!”

“Christmas!” shrieked Courfeyrac.

“Bunny rabbits!” came Eponine excitedly.

Combeferre made a fake snake with his arm and slithered across the comforter. “Ssssssssssnakes!”

“Chocolate icing, mmmMmmm!” Jehan admitted, licking his fingers and rubbing his belly.

Courfeyrac covered Combeferre’s ears and whispered, “No school!”

“Pillow fights!” the girls yelled in unison, hitting eachother with Fantine’s pillows and sending feathers flying.

Enjolras had left the bathroom with wet hair, his heart floating, full of the lovely fun they all were having. “Telegrams!” he gasped, hugging himself.

Jehan, who would be celebrating his birthday in two days, gushed, “Birthday presents!”

“Any presents!” corrected Gavroche.

“Ladybugs!”

“A good sneeze!” said Combeferre. “Aaachoo!”

“God bless! See what fun it is?”

“ _Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens_  
 _Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens_  
 _Brown paper packages tied up with strings_  
 _These are a few of my favorite things_  
  
 _Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels_  
 _Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles_  
 _Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings_  
 _These are a few of my favorite things_  
  
 _Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes_  
 _Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes_  
 _Silver white winters that melt into springs_  
 _These are a few of my favorite things_  
  
 _When the dog bites_  
 _When the bee stings_  
 _When I'm feeling sad_  
 _I simply remember my favorite things_  
 _And then I don't feel so--_ ”

Captain Valjean was standing right before her, a cross expression on his face. His children gasped in horror and made a line. It made Fantine’s heart break to see the so scared and nervous just because their own father had walked in. She looked at them standing shoulder to shoulder with puffed out chests and felt her entire form fill with white rage.

“Mademoiselle!” barked Valjean, gaining her attention. “You do remember that bedtime is to be strictly observed in this household.”

“Oh, yes, Captain,” she answered. “I remember it well.”

“Then, dare I ask, why are all seven of my children awake and causing quite the ruckus that I was pulled from my sleep? Are you trying to nullify that rule, Mademoiselle?”

“Only during thunderstorms, sir,” she answered.

Valjean cleared his throat and put his whistle to his mouth, blowing a shrill note into Fantine’s ear and scaring the children back to their rooms. “Now,” he said when they were gone, “you haven’t forgotten that come tomorrow I shall be leaving for Troyes?”

“No, Captain,” Fantine answered.

“Good. Well, sleep well,” he said, turning to leave.

“Captain?”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if I could have some more material.”

“What for?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“I want to make the children some play clothes…” Fantine muttered, looking down.

“That is completely out of the question.”

Valjean began to walk off again but Fantine followed after him. “Sir, they need to be outside and have fun! Be children!”

“The answer is no and that is final!” he snapped. “Now, good night.”

Valjean marched to his room, leaving Fantine alone in hers. She exhaled slowly and sat herself in a chair by the window. The storm outside caused it to bang open, and the wind made the drapes fly in her face. The drapes weren’t horrible. Fantine wondered why Joly was so persistent to rid the house of them. Sure, they were a ghastly yellow color that had seen better years, but there were also flowers that had been stitched in the material, making them look lovely as ever. And the drapes were durable, too.

Wait a second…

“ _Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens_  
 _Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens_  
 _Brown paper packages tied up with strings_  
 _These are a few of my favorite things!_ ”

If Joly was to get rid of these drapes, there was no one stopping her from putting them to good use. The Captain would not be here come tomorrow. Oh, but the governess would have to work all night to finish her job. It would be hard work, but it would be worth it.

“ _When the dog bites_  
 _When the bee stings_  
 _When I'm feeling sad_  
 _I simply remember my favorite things_  
 _And then I don't feel so bad_!”


	5. De-Re-Mi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Valjean kids learn how to sing, the Javert kids are too cute, Bossuet runs into a rose bush, and Marius gets pinched by Bahorel. Just too cute, I'm sorry.

Fantine ripped the curtains off their pole and laid them out on the floor beside her freshly sewn dress. Seven children who she did not know the sizes of needed some new play clothes. She learned to trust her good eye and began cutting into the material. The scissors cut out shape after shape that Fantine eagerly dragged her needle through. It was daylight when she was finished, but the excited governess was not a lick tired.

“Children, do not change!” she yelled as she ran through the halls upstairs. “I have something for you to put on!”

The Valjean children tiredly opened their doors and filed into a line before their ecstatic governess who had her arms filled with mysterious garments. Fantine directed them to hold out their hands as she deposited the play clothes into their arms.

“What are these?” Éponine asked as she eyed the clothing in her hands.

“Play clothes!” Fantine exclaimed as if she had been waiting five years to say it.

“Play clothes?” the children parroted in shock.

Fantine nodded and pointed to their rooms again. “Go and change. We will all meet for breakfast when you are washed and clothed. When you are fed, we will go play!”

Still confused, the children took their new things back with them to their rooms. Fantine skipped down the stairs and into the kitchen, walking in on a tired looking Joly. “You made them play clothes?’ the housekeeper asked.

“I did do that,” she assured.

“Why?” Joly said.

“Because they were needed,” said Fantine. She took a muffin from the tray and skipped off into the dining room.

Joly sighed and watched her go off. “I’m going to miss you when you’re gone…”

The clothing fit the children almost perfectly. Enjolras looked dashing in a loose button up, jacket, pants, and a red sash as a belt made from left over material. For Cosette, Fantine had used leftover blue to accent her dress. Courfeyrac was in a pair of short breeches and loose shirt that hung loosely off his body. A skirt, top, and vest had been made for Éponine, and Combeferre had an outfit similar to Enjolras’s, except he was also sporting a flavorful hat. Jehan was wearing an outfit to mirror Courfeyrac’s, except Fantine made sure more flowers were showing. Little Gavroche was in a shirt, breeches, and a jacket made from the leftover blue. Each child looked both lovely and comfortable.

They ate breakfast in bubbling excitement. When plates were cleared and glasses emptied, their lines were forgotten and marching thrown aside as Fantine led them out the oak doors and into the town.

Cosette carried a picnic basket and Combeferre had a ball tucked beneath his arm. They laughed and sang as they walked down the path to the town. When they passed the Javert estate, Enjolras’s ears perked up, earning him a knowing grin from Fantine. In the front yard, Javert’s four sons played away while the gardener did his work. Grantaire was painting on the walls of the fountain while Marius mocked his father’s habit of walking on the edge of the wall. The little redhead constantly tripped and fell into the fountain, pulling dreamy giggles from both Valjean girls. Two other boys were there. Bahorel, a muscular looking child with red hair, and Bossuet, a little boy with hair so blonde and thin it may as well not be there. Monsieur Javert noticed them and trudged over, taking Marius with him. The boy was a year senior on Courfeyrac. When he walked over, both Éponine and Cosette flushed and began messing with their hair.

“Bonjour, Marius!” Éponine shrieked.

“’Jour,” Marius said, side tracked. He approached Cosette with a stupid grin. “Bonjour, Cosette.”

Éponine frowned and looked down as Marius showed off the new ring he had received from his father to Cosette. Enjolras ran over secretly to Grantaire, who set down his paints and embraced the other. Javert smiled smugly and turned to Fantine, kissing her hand.

“Are you the new governess for these children?” he asked tantalizingly as if it were a crime.

“Yes, I am,” she answered.

“Where are they going in these…?”

“Play clothes. We’re going to play.”

Javert’s eyebrows went up in playful curiosity. “Play? I didn’t think the Valjean children could play.”

“We should figure out today,” Fantine said.

The man nodded and walked along the group of children, judging their clothing. “Curtains… Heh….” He turned to face Fantine again and chuckled, “I will have to set up a dinner with Jean. It has been terribly too long since we’ve seen one another.”

“Hmm. Yes. Come along, Enjolras!”

The blonde boy pulled himself away from Grantaire and ran back over looking flushed and rejuvenated.

“I hope we have supper with your family sometime, Cosette,” said Marius. “Then we can see each other again.”

Cosette giggled and kissed his cheek, making him turn a color to rival his hair. Javert smiled in an almost teasing manner and waved the line of children and their unexplainably angered governess away.

“You look cross, Mademoiselle Fantine,” announced Jehan as he tugged her hand.

“Well, assure yourself that I am not,” she snapped back.

“Y’sound cross, ‘Moiselle!” said Gavroche.

With a frown, Fantine turned to the children. “I do not mean to. I apologize.”

They entered town and Fantine grinned. She brought them over to a fruit stand and looked at the man, who was smiling and giving each child a free strawberry.

“They taste great!” Combeferre confirmed, giving Fantine a wanting look.

“May we have some to take with us?” she asked the vender.

“Of course!” the man said, giving them a bag. “For the price of small. Anything else?”

Fantine looked at the tomatoes, apples, and oranges. She bought enough for everyone, then began playfully juggling the tomatoes. She tossed them one by one to Gavroche, but, unfortunately, the last one never made it into the basket. Gavroche looked down guiltily at the splattered fruit and his lip quivered. Fantine held up a finger and smiled. So did he.

Laughter filled the town as the group ran to catch a boat. The children, having never ridden a river boat, shrieked with laughter and waved at anyone who they passed. Jehan and Combeferre even found themselves by the wheel by the captain. Fantine’s heart shattered at their disappointed faces when they saw the dock in the distance, but grew happier as she reminded herself of the picnic they would be having.

Skipping up hills and stomping over rocks, seven smiling children found themselves on one of the hills outside of the abbey. Fantine set out a large blanket and let them sprawl out over it. Sandwiches were eaten, fruit was chomped, juice was drank, and a basket was emptied. After their meal, the children toed off their shoes and began to play. Jehan braided Cosette’s hair, Combeferre and Courfeyrac passed a ball back and forth, Éponine picked flowers with Gavroche, and Enjolras laid beside Fantine on the blanket, reading a book.

“Mademoiselle Fantine?” Jehan asked as he walked over to get an apple. “Can we do this every day?”

“Don’t you think you’d tire of it rather quickly?” she answered with a giggle.

Jehan seemed to think this over for a spell. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “Possibly… every other day?”

Fantine giggled and kissed his cheek. Enjolras set his book down on his chest with a smile and looked up at his governess. “We haven’t had this much fun since we put plaster on Mademoiselle Josephine’s hairbrush!”

“My, my, my,” Fantine sighed. “Everything happened to Mademoiselle Josephine…”

“She was most gullible!” Courfeyrac yelled over.

She smiled and looked around at all the children. They looked and acted so innocent. “I can’t imagine how children as nice as you can play such awful tricks on people,” she said.

“It’s easy,” replied Enjolras.

“By why do it?”

Enjolras sat up and gave her a look of confusion. It made Fantine feel as if she were an imbecile. “How else are we supposed to get Papa’s attention?” he asked her like it was common core knowledge.

Fantine nodded in understand. “Oh, I see… Well, we’ll have to think about that one…”

She looked around and thought. What would get their father’s attention? What got everyone’s attention? Something that was beautiful and expressive… That’s it!

“Alright!” she hollered, standing up and grabbing the guitar she had brought with her. “Everyone, over here!”

“What are we doing?” Combeferre asked when they had all settled around Fantine and were staring quizzically at the instrument in her hands.

Fantine worked the strings between her fingers and tuned her guitar. “Thinking of a song for the Baroness,” she mumbled, occupied with the at hand task.

The children shared worried looks. “Father doesn’t like us to sing,” said Cosette, pulling on the braid that flipped over her shoulder.

“Perhaps we’ll change his mind,” said Fantine. “Now, tell me what songs you know.”

“We don’t know any songs,” said Éponine. The other children all nodded in agreement.

Fantine’s brows furrowed in concern. “Not any?” she gasped in disbelief.

“We don’t even know how to sing!”

“Then we will waste no time!” she announced. The governess ran fingers over the strings and smiled at the sound. “You must learn!”

“But how?” Gavroche asked.

“ _Let's start at the very beginning_ __  
A very good place to start  
When you read you begin with…?”

“A B C!” Gavroche and Jehan answered proudly.

Fantine nodded towards them, then continued, “ _When you sing you begin with do-re-mi…_ ”

The children repeated, “ _Do-re-mi…_ ”

“ _The first three notes just happen to be: do-re-mi!_ ”

“ _Do-re-mi_!”

“Let’s see if I can make it easier… _Doe, a deer, a female deer_ __  
Ray, a drop of golden sun  
Me, a name I call myself  
Far, a long, long way to run  
Sew, a needle pulling thread  
La, a note to follow Sew  
Tea, a drink with jam and bread  
That will bring us back to Do-oh-oh-oh!

 _Doe, a deer, a female deer_ __  
Ray, a drop of golden sun  
Me, a name I call myself  
Far, a long, long way to run  
Sew, a needle pulling thread  
La, a note to follow Sew  
Tea, a drink with jam and bread  
That will bring us back to Do

 _Doe, a deer, a female deer_ __  
Ray, a drop of golden sun  
Me, a name I call myself  
Far, a long, long way to run  
Sew, a needle pulling thread  
La, a note to follow Sew  
Tea, a drink with jam and bread  
That will bring us back to Do!”

“ _Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do-so-do!_ ”

In the distance, Fantine could hear the church bells ringing, and that was their signal to begin heading home. She began to clean up their picnic. The children helped, and as they were walking down the mountains, she remembered what she was planning to say next, “Now children, do-re-mi-fa-so and so on are only the tools we use to build a song. Once you have these notes in your heads,  you can sing a million different tunes by mixing them up. Like this: _So Do La Fa Mi Do Re!_ Think you can do that?”

They all exchanged looks, then sang the tune back, “ _So do la fa mi do re!_ ”

“ _So do la ti do re do!_ ”

“ _So do la ti do re do!_ ”

Fantine gushed with pride. They sounded wonderful. “Perfect! Excellent! Now, put it all together!”

“ _So do la fa mi do re – so do la ti do re do!_ ”

Fantine clapped her hands together. “Good!” she said happily.

“But it doesn’t mean anything,” Éponine snorted.

“So we put in words,” Fantine said. “ _When you know the notes to sing… You can sing most anything!_ Together!”

“ _When you know the notes to sing, you can sing most anything!_ ”

“ _Doe, a deer, a female deer_ __  
Ray, a drop of golden sun  
Me, a name I call myself  
Far, a long, long way to run  
Sew, a needle pulling thread  
La, a note to follow Sew  
Tea, a drink with jam and bread  
That will bring us back to Do!”

Back in the carriage home, Fantine began to playfully point to each Valjean. Each took one note.

Enjolras: “Do!”

Cosette: “Re!”

Courfeyrac: “Mi!”

Éponine: “Fa!”

Combeferre: “So!”

Jehan: “La!”

Gavroche: “Ti!”

“Do do!

“Ti!”

“La!”

“So!”

“Fa!”

“Mi!”

“Do! Do!”

“Mi mi! Mi!”

“So so!”

“Re!”

“Fa fa!”

“La!”

“Ti ti!”

“ _Doe, a deer, a female deer_ __  
Ray, a drop of golden sun  
Me, a name I call myself  
Far, a long, long way to run  
Sew, a needle pulling thread  
La, a note to follow Sew  
Tea, a drink with jam and bread  
That will bring us back to  
  
Do . . . So Do   
Re . . . La Fa   
Mi . . . Mi Do   
Fa . . . Re   
So . . . So Do   
La . . . La Fa   
Ti . . . La So Fa Mi Re   
Ti Do - oh - oh Ti Do -- So Do!”

Now, about the same time as Fantine was hitting her final note, an elegant carriage was making its way up the road to the Valjean home. Inside sat Monsieur Valjean himself, his step-brother, Felix Thenardier, and his mistress, Baroness Auriville de Thenard. Thenardier was, not so discreetly, picking off the jewels that hung from the tufts of the carriage curtains. Valjean made no effort to stop the man as it would be a blind shot in the dark. The baroness smiled at him, then looked out the windows.

“I simply adore these small mountains. So lucky you live here. There aren’t many mountains as pretty as these ones in France,” she said.

“I’ll take you up them later, mon amour,” Valjean said.

“How darling of you, Jean!” Thenardier laughed. “There aren’t many places so rich in France like Paris! Out there, somewhere out there, is someone waiting for me to pluck them out of obscurity! Maybe a painter! Maybe an orchestra! Maybe a singer! Soon, I’ll have them playing for Napoleon himself!”

“And you’ll have all the money,” said Valjean, rolling his eyes.

“They get all the fame, I get all the money,” he said. “But that will change! Soon I’ll get the fame and the money!”

Auriville laughed nasally. “Felix, you’re terrible!”

“I take pride in it,” he guffawed, stuffing the last tiny jewel in his pocket.

“Really, though, Jean,” Auriville gushed again. “The mountains are magnificent.”

“I put them up just for you,” he replied. “Even if it is to a height of feet.”

“Oh?”

“Jean over here always believe in ‘rising’ to the occasion,” Thenardier joked.

The Captain rolled his eyes. “Improve the jokes or I’ll uninvited you.”

“You can’t uninvite me!” he retaliated. “I invited myself.”

“Naturally.”

“You needed a chaperone. And I needed somewhere where the food was fine, the wine cellar unexcelled, and the price perfect.”

“Outrageous is what you are, Felix,” Auriville giggled.

“Nonsense!” he said. “I’m quite the charming sponge!”

Valjean rolled his eyes and looked out the window. Just as his eyes swept over the Javert home, the carriage stopped, and Monsieur Javert was making his way over.

“Jean!” he bellowed, throwing the door open. Little Bossuet was wrapped around his legs and Bahorel was pinching Marius in the background, making the pale, freckled boy squeal. Grantaire was struggling to look over his father’s shoulder to see if Enjolras was in the carriage (upon seeing he wasn’t, the teen left).

“Bonjour, Hirah,” the Captain replied lazily. “How are you?”

“I’m just fine. Bossuet here walked into a rose bush, bless him…” Javert picked the little boy up and balanced him on his hip. “I saw your offspring pass by earlier.”

“As you do daily whilst they march about the area,” Valjean replied.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, I suppose,” Javert said. “Except… Their governess told me… You know, I bet they were just taking their rounds, and I believe the lady brought a lunch for them. More time outside is good for children. Except, of course, little Lesgle here. And Marius turns redder than his hair in the sun. Takes after his mother.”

“Very interesting… Javert, is there an actual reason you stopped us?”

“Yes, actually! I was wondering if I could ask you for supper tonight,” proposed Javert, bouncing Bossuet now.

“Actually, I have company,” Valjean said.

Javert looked into the carriage with inspecting eyes and furrowed brows. He gave Thenardier a stern glare. “Is this the Baroness? Pleasure.”

“Same to you, Monsieur.”

“Inspector, please.”

Thenardier’s eyebrows lifted. “Captain and Inspector? I like it.”

“And exactly what does that mean?” Valjean questioned.

“Nothing!”

Javert cleared his throat, and the Captain turned back at him. “Anywho… Maybe I could come over? Marius has been speaking nonstop about Cosette since he saw her this morning, and Lesgle just admires your housekeeper.”

The Baroness grinned and set her hand on Valjean’s knee. “Oh, dear! Let them! I want to meet his delightful family! I mean… they are your neighbors. And, hopefully, will be mine as well.”

“Terrific idea! I’ll see you at five!”

“Wait! Javert!”

Too late. Javert laughed heartily and slammed the door shut. The carriage began running again. Their ride was silent and tense, and it was obvious the Baroness felt guilty. Valjean did, as well, for he did not mean to appear cross with her. Thenardier was worried. If they fought too much, his plan would fall to dust. Just then…

“My god, what is that?” he gasped.

Outside their windows, in the trees that lined the pathway, were the Valjean children in ratty clothing, climbing about the limbs and singing absurd syllables. But the Captain didn’t want to believe it was his children. It couldn’t be. But he’d recognize them anywhere. His powerful son, Enjolras’s, strong voice. Cosette, his darling treasure, with her drop-dead beauty. Courfeyrac’s curls and heartbreaker attitude. Eponine’s knowledge and strong will leaving her dangling on a branch. He could see his little genius, Combeferre’s, glasses falling off his nose. Jehan’s flowers flying everywhere in the breeze. And of course little Gavroche with his toes on the grass on fingers barely holding a branch. They were his, but he didn’t want them to be.

“Oh, nothing. Just some local urchins.”


	6. Music in these Halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valjean is giving quite the stern lesson on just what it means to be a father, and Enjolras has his heart shattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love making Javert a cute papa

“Valjean!”

“Javert… You’re a tad early, don’t you think?”

Rolling his eyes, Javert pushed past Valjean into the entryway. His four sons trailed behind him, Marius and Bossuet both tripping up and falling flat on their faces. Bossuet started crying, and Javert picked the little boy up and cradled him in his arms. The tiny child slowly calmed down and ending his crying with a small kiss to his father’s scruffy jaw. “Love you, Papa,” the three year old mumbled, wiggling free of Javert’s arms.

For some reason, it made Valjean cross.

“Well, Hirah, are you going to explain this?” the Captain asked impatiently.

“I was thinking the children could interact while we catch up,” said Javert. “And I’m not too terribly early. It’s an hour til supper.”

Valjean huffed, but led his guests into the sitting room. The Baroness smiled and greeted the four children then Inspector Javert. Merry conversation was made, and Valjean embarrassingly had to make Thénardier give Marius back his golden ring. Through jokes and bottles of wine, Valjean became increasingly angrier and restless. And as much as he tried to escape, his attempts were thwarted by Auriville asking the Inspector about himself and home life.

“So what is your wife like, Inspector?” she asked, pouring more wine. “She must be delightful!”

Javert turned crimson, his lips busying themselves with the edge of his wine glass. “Actually, my wife left me after birthing my dearest Bossuet. But it’s not like she was my wife in any respect. Emilee married me on a rainy Tuesday and laid with my brother on a sunny Wednesday. Every once in a while, she would lay with me and create a child… My four boys are then left with me. Not that I cared, because I love them dearly, and I want them to know how to treat those they love.”

“Oh!” the Baroness gasped. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Think nothing of it. Caring for my children is what I enjoy more than anything. I love to love them.”

“Valjean, darling,” said the Baroness abruptly. “Let’s take a walk outside, darling. I could use some fresh air.”

“A splendid idea!” announced Javert as he straightened up Bahorel’s bangs. “We should get a hair appointment in for you, Bahorel. Remind Daddy when we get home.”

Valjean gulped angrily again and allowed himself to be led outside. The Baroness held his arm affectionately in her hands as she walked him about the lake. The Captain slowly relaxed.

“My love, I do hate to see you in such sour mood,” Auriville said.

“I do apologize, my love,” he replied. “It’s just that Hirah Javert makes me rather…”

“Jealous?”

Valjean looked taken aback. “Why on Earth would I feel jealous?” he questioned.

“He is… Well, he seems to father his children in such an affectionate way – ”

“And what would it concern me with how Hirah parents his children?” Valjean snapped.

“Well, because you seemed… cross…”

“I assure you I was not.”

Silence.

“Why do you stay away from such a beautiful place?”

“What?”

“Paris! It’s breathtaking…”

“But it’s too… full.”

“Of what?”

“Matters of the mind that don’t concern you.”

“I see.”

“I like to escape from this city – my city – to be with you, Baroness…. Auriville, this will sound utterly horrible, but in a way, you have saved me.”

“How disgustingly romantic to call me your savior.”

“It’s true.”

“Oh, Val- what is that noise?”

From the edge of the lake, a long row boat was making its way to the dock. Aboard it were seven smiling Valjean children and their grinning governess. Fantine was leading them in laughter and song, and the Baroness was laughing along (however, more at the spectacle that it was). Valjean was slowly growing livid. The boat rowed close enough and he barked down, “Get out of that boat at once!”

Eponine saw their father and leapt to her feet, the others following. “It’s father!” they shouted, waving hands. “Hello, father!”

“Get back here at once!”

The boat tipped over, and each rider was soaked in lake water. But their spirits stay alive. They laughed and laughed, and the girls pulled the boat ashore while Enjolras carried Jehan and Gavroche on his hips.

“You must be Baroness de Thenard!” Fantine gasped as she lay sight on Auriville. “How pleasant to meet you!”

“And I you,” the Baroness giggled.

Valjean tweeted his whistle, and all merry laughter halted immediately. The children lined up in military style. Fantine frowned and tied up the boat, watching the Captain from the corner of her eye. He took hats and bonnets, tore out Jehan’s flowers and braids, and took a love letter from Enjolras’s pocket. Valjean opened it up and the teen lunged forward, but the Captain pushed him back.

“Dear Enjolras,” he read, his eyes moving quickly. “I have slipped this letter into your shirt pocket. I hope you don’t mind. But I wrote you to say I have convinced father into getting us lined up for supper! As I write, my father is planning what he will say to your father, the Captain Valjean. Enjolras, I plan to bring my paints. I wish to paint you. If you allow it. I want to paint you for my walls. Please give me permission, dear Apollo. I also would like to thank you for the… the… kiss? Kiss?! Ahem! I also would like to thank you for the kiss. I can’t stop thinking about your lips. I pray we relive such memories come supper time. With all my heart, your dearest R…”

Valjean stared down Enjolras, and in turn the blond teen stared at the floor in shame. The Captain growled and began to tear the letter apart. Piece by piece, scraps of red paper fell to Enjolras’s feet, and with each tear Valjean barked out another word.

“You – are – seeing – the – Javert – boy – behind – your – father’s – back?!” the Captain roared, throwing the final scraps into his son’s face.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” Enjolras mumbled.

“We will discuss this with the lad in question and his father after we dine. May you be warned, I plan to punish you harshly for lying to your father and seeing a person your father doesn’t approve of!” Valjean scowled and walked up the line of children again. “All of you! Go inside and change for supper!”

The children went off on a march into the house. The Baroness bit her long nails with a sigh of, “I’ll go in too.” And followed.

When they were gone and only Fantine was left with Valjean, he turned to say to her, “Now, Mademoiselle, I want a truthful answer…”

“Yes, Captain,” replied Fantine.

“Is it possible, or have I just imagined it,” he asked. “Have my children, by any chance, been climbing trees today?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“I see,” said the Captain. “And, may I ask, where did they procure these…?”

“Play clothes!” Fantine interjected happily.

“Is that what they are?” he asked sarcastically.

“Yes, sir!” said Fantine. “I made them from the drapes that used to hang in my bedroom.”

“Drapes?” Valjean gasped.

“They have plenty of wear left,” she said. “We’ve been everywhere in them.”

“Are you trying to tell me my children have been roaming around Paris” – he looked at the bonnet in his hand – “in drapes?”

“And having the most wonderful of times!”

“They have uniforms,” snapped Valjean.

Fantine tried to compose herself, but temper was rising. “Forgive me, straightjackets. They can’t be children if they’re always worrying about clothes – ”

“They don’t complain!”

“They wouldn’t dare! They love you far too much!” she yelled desperately. “And they fear – ”

“Do not speak to me about my children!”

“But you need to hear! You’re never home – ”

“I don’t wish to hear any more!”

“I know you don’t, but you have to!” Fantine yelled. “Enjolras isn’t a child!”

“Not one more word!”

“He wants to be a man and you aren’t there to show him how! And Cosette! One day she’s going to be a woman and you won’t even know her anymore!”

“I refuse to have you tell – ”

“Combeferre could tell you about her! He notices everything! And Eponine acts tough to hide the pain when you ignore her!”

“Hold your tongue!”

“And Courfeyrac… I don’t know about him yet… But the little ones just want to be loved. Please, Captain, love them all!” Fantine cried, becoming passionate.

Valjean swatted her sharply on the shoulder, making her fall back a foot. “I don’t care to hear more!” he snapped.

“I’m not finished yet, Captain!”

“Oh, yes, you are!” Valjean yelled in retaliation. “Now, Mademoiselle, you will pack your things and return to the abbey at once!”

Fantine looked down and wiped a tear from her eye, determined to not let the Captain see. Valjean was livid. He looked Fantine square in the eye as he tore up the drape bonnet (which had belonged to Cosette) and let the pieces fall to the floor. Fantine choked, but wouldn’t let him have his way, and instead stared at him head strong.

Then noise.

Pretty noise. A noise that soothed both persons and made them smile almost. Valjean turned his head toward the noise. It was singing, and it was coming from his home.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Singing,” answered Fantine.

“Yes, I know it’s singing, but whose is it?” he tried again.

“The children,” she answered. “I taught them a song for the Baroness.”

Valjean strutted into the house and into his sitting room. On the couch, Javert sat with Bahorel beside him and Bossuet on his knee. Marius was sitting in front of his children, who were clumped together in the corner of the room. Grantaire was sitting on the window sill beside Enjolras, playing a guitar for the singing Valjean children. De Thenard and Thenardier sat beside each other on arm chairs with big smiles plastered on their faces.. Valjean’s breath left him. His beautiful children were singing gorgeous words of songs and hills and beauty…

“ _The hills are alive,_  
With the sound of music  
With songs they have sung  
For a thousand years  
  
The hills fill my heart,  
With the sound of music  
My heart wants to sing  
Every song it hears  
  
My heart wants to beat  
Like the wings of the birds  
That rise from the lake to the trees  
  
My heart wants to sigh  
Like a chime that flies  
From a church on a breeze”

Valjean, who was grinning largely, began to excitedly tap Fantine’s arm. She looked at him in confusion, but the Captain just whispered, “I know this song!”

“Good for you,” she answered sarcastically. “Would you fancy a medal?”

“Their mother taught them this song…”

“And I them, as well.”

“ _To laugh like a brook_  
When it trips and falls  
Over stones on its way  
To sing through the night  
Like a lark  
Who is learning to pray…”

“ _I go to the hills  
When my heart is lonely  
I know I will hear,_ ” Valjean sang, surprising everyone in the room. His children stopped singing for a spell, too bewildered by their father’s sudden involvement. _  
_“ _What I've heard before_  
My heart will be blessed,  
With the sound of music  
And I'll sing once more.”

Valjean gulped and opened his arms towards his children. They all exchanged looks, and Enjolras tightened his grip on Grantaire’s shoulder. Fantine sighed and watched, knowing too much damage had been done already. The Captain did, too, and slowly turned away, embarrassed and upset.

“Papa!”

Valjean spun around just in time to catch little Gavroche in his arms. The tiny boy grinned and threw his small hands around Valjean’s neck, snuggling into his neck. The other children watched in surprise as their father rubbed his hands soothingly up and down Gavroche’s back.

“Do you love us again, Papa?” Gavroche asked.

“Oh, Gavroche,” Valjean sighed. “I always loved you. All of you…” –he looked at Fantine- “I see now I have done a horrid job of showing it… I’m sorry.”

Cosette smiled and pulled the Captain into a hug, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Jehan following. Eponine dragged Enjolras over, and the teenager tried hard to hide his smile. Fantine smiled gravely, knowing she was still being sent away. With a heavy heart, she went to walk upstairs.

“Fantine!” called Valjean desperately. She looked at him, her eyebrow rising in question. “Don’t go. Please.”

“As you wish,” she mumbled, cheeks pinking.

Jehan hopped away from his father and dug into his pocket for a small bouquet of Edelweiss. He had used a ribbon to tie them together. With a hesitant smile, he handed the bouquet to the Baroness, who looked at them with a smile.

“Edelweiss!” she gasped, sniffing them to appease Jehan. “Jean, you never told me how delightful your children are!” Auriville blew the Captain a kiss and gave Jehan a hug.

The Captain smiled and turned to Fantine, who blurted, “I behaved badly… I’m sorry. I’m far to outspoken, it’s one of my worst faults.”

“You were right,” said Valjean. “I don’t know my children at all.”

“There’s still time, Captain,” Fantine said happily. “They wish so much to be close to you.”

“And you brought music back into the household,” he gasped. “I’d forgotten, Mademoiselle. I want you to stay. I ask you to stay.”

“If I can be of any help.”

“You already have,” he said. “More than you know.”

“Enjolras!”

“R…!”

Both Javert and Valjean turned swiftly, growing red when they both saw their eldest kissing the other. It wasn’t obscene or inappropriate, but it was _happening_. And because it was happening, both Javert and Valjean screamed a little bit louder than what was necessary.

“Grantaire!”

“Enjolras!”

Both boys hesitantly pulled away from each other. Eponine and Courfeyrac began to giggle, but a stern glare from their father told them it was not best. Both dads strode purposely across the room and grabbed their respective child by the ear, dragging both curly haired teens from the room, which earned a laugh or two from the adults in the room.

In the other room, Enjolras and Grantaire were seated across from each other. Javert and Valjean just paced back and forth for a little while, bumping into one another every now and again. Enjolras hung his head in embarrassment. Grantaire slouched horribly, and his father continuously pulled him up by the shoulder.

“Hirah,” Valjean finally spoke, his voice stern, “what is the meaning of this?”

“I should be asking you the same, shouldn’t I?” Javert said in retort.

“Your son was kissing mine!” shouted Jean.

“As was yours!” replied Javert.

“Papa!” cried Grantaire, grabbing Javert’s attention. “Do you not… approve of me?”

Javert’s face fell and he ran over to his oldest, lowering onto his knees and placing his hands on the dark-haired boy’s shoulders. Grantaire looked heart broken, and kept looking at Enjolras with teary eyes. Javert rubbed his son’s shoulders calmingly, breathing slowly to calm Grantaire down.

“Of course I approve of you,” Javert muttered, looking into the boy’s eyes. “I do not want you to feel like I don’t approve of you.”

“Then what is the matter?” R whined.

“I don’t approve of him,” Javert spat, glaring daggers at Enjolras.

Valjean gasped and stepped forward, his hand grabbing Enjolras’s shoulders tightly. “And what don’t you approve about my son?” he asked, scandalized.

“Look at him!” said Javert. “He’s stuck-up, like his father!”

“I am not stuck-up!”

“And he’s far too outspoken! Won’t shut up about causes or how horrible Bonaparte is! I don’t want a martyr like that influencing my eldest!”

“Get out,” Valjean snapped, wrinkling the material of Enjolras’s shirt as his grip tightened.

Javert raised an eyebrow, and both of the boys gaped in horror. Enjolras threw himself at Grantaire and pulled the other boy up, holding him tightly.

“We will not be thrown out in such a matter,” protested Javert.

“Father, please!” begged Enjolras, letting R envelope him in his arms.

“Shush, Enjolras!” yelled Javert.

“Don’t speak to him like that!” Grantaire screamed.

“Don’t sass me!”

Valjean gripped Javert’s arm and tugged him through the house to the foyer. Grantaire pressed a kiss to Enjolras’s lips, the blond wrapping his arms around him tightly and not daring to let go. The Captain screamed for the Javert family to leave his household at once, and soon Hirah had lifted Bossuet into his arms, given Bahorel a pat on the head, straightened Marius’s tie, and rubbed Grantaire’s back, mumbling an apology as the teen forced the tears back into his eyes. Valjean watched them leave, chest heaving, while Enjolras turned to him and screeched:

“I can’t believe you! I love him! My god, do I love him! And you just ruined everything! I… I hate you!”

The Captain’s breath hitched and he watched as Enjolras tore up the stairs, sobbing into his hands. He turned to Fantine, and she signaled for him to follow. However, he shook his head, and Fantine, with a sigh, trudged up the stairs.


	7. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Party is had, and the author quotes Oscar Wilde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so sorry this has taken so long, guys! I was at ASU taking classes for three weeks, and then I went to Florida with my family for a week. Basically, I haven't been home in a month (which is crazy insane for a freshly made fourteen year old), so I haven't been able to work on fics. Uhm, my other Les Mis fic, Ballerinas and Barricades: The Mystery of the Cloud Castle, is going on hiatus just because it's not as popular, and I have more fic ideas that fall into the same categories as these so I want to focus on them. That's right, be expecting a new theatre crossover very soon, guys! Also, my RP is still in need of a Bossuet and a Combeferre (and the rest of Les Amis!!!), so if you're interested check out todaysgoneby-rp.tumblr.com and appease me. APPEASE AUTHOR raWR. So, yes, a new fic will be out soon, and B&B is on hiatus so I can really sort out the story. Soon, I'll be putting out a Potter fic about Percy Weasley (my favourite character) and I would appreciate if you guys would read it when it comes out. I really like hearing back from commenters, it keeps me writing when I get positive feedback. This fic is coming to a close, guys, and I really liked doing this and the new one is already a blast to write. Someone recommended on Tumblr that I do a Potter crossover, and I was thinking I could do a one-chapter each fic for them, so if you like that please tell me in the comments or on tumblr at ifoundmythrill-onblueberryhill.tumblr.com. Okay, I'm like overfilling this, so I'll let you read now.

Supper was silent, as the tension filling the room was too thick to speak through. Enjolras’s chair had finally been filled after Fantine had convinced the boy downstairs to sup. The blond glared daggers at his roast mutton and potatoes, violently tearing strands of meat off his slice with his fork. Jehan’s flowers had been placed in a thin champagne glass closest to the Baroness (however, seeing as the flowers were about three inches at most, and different lengths each, most of them were floating upon the water), and the woman would try her hardest to discreetly push them away from her. Cosette was smiling brightly, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, while Eponine glared sorrowfully from across the table.

“What a delightful family,” Thenardier choked out after what felt like an eternity of silence.

Valjean rolled his eyes and slurred, “You would think so.”

“I would, too, darling,” said the Baroness, lightly touching the Captain’s arm. “In fact, I would say you should throw me a party! That way I can meet each one of your little friends.”

And what woman says, usually goes. So there was party. It was a delightful party, nonetheless, with a red flag hanging on the banisters, and the French flag dangling across from it. The women were dressing in beautiful gowns of pinks, whites, and creams, with the men in dashing suits and military wear. The Captain himself donned his badges to appease his mistress. Soon, the forbidden room in which Fantine had danced alone in on her first day at the house was filled with the people of France, including the Javert family. An orchestra was positioned upon the bandstand, and the room was filled with vibrant music.

Valjean and the Baroness stood by the door, happily greeting each new guest as they arrived. Thenardier stood in the corner and laughed at the show before him, sipping down his fifth glass of blue wine. Through the door, happy and gay, came the Javerts. His children passed by with hurried feet, and, in Grantaire’s case, downcast eyes, to join Valjean’s brood outside the gala, leaving their father alone with the Captain. From behind walking in Colonel Gillenormand.

“Captain Jean Valjean!” exclaimed the Colonel. “Too bad this isn’t a political party, my good man.”

“Well, Colonel, I daresay there are enough political leaders here to make it as such,” Valjean replied, his tone flighty.

Javert nodded, taking an almost military and offensive position beside Gillenormand. The Colonel laughed and patted Valjean’s shoulders as if he were a child. “Yes, Captain, yes,” he said, giving the other man a good shake. “But, you see, political parties are the only place where politics are not discussed.”

“Ah, yes,” agreed Javert. “I am rather winded out from all this speak of Bonaparte and Revolutions and Charles X. It does get rather tiring, doesn’t it, Valjean? What these… these martyrs think they’re doing?”

“I do ask what you mean by that pretty little statement right there,” replied Valjean curtly.

Both Javert and the Colonel rolled their eyes, little “tsk!” noises passing over their lips. “Really, Captain!” wailed Gillenormand. “Haven’t you heard their silly ideas? They don’t want the emporer, so he’s snuffed. Then, they’re malcontent with the king, but they kill him!”

“Trying to change the world too fast, ay?” interjected Javert.

“Exactly!” agreed the Colonel. “Now we’ve got a different king, and they’re saying he’s no better than the last! Who do they want running the country? An ass?”

“I take you mean that word to be used in all forms, Colonel,” said Valjean.

“It is rather wild, Jean,” said Javert, his eyes piercing Valjean with invisible anger. “I hear they plan to erect barricades.”

“Barricades?” gasped the Captain in mock. “Barricades, Hirah? What danger does a few chairs and a broken pub table pose to you and the French National Guard?”

“A bigger threat than you can fathom, Captain,” warned Gillenormand. “But, it is good to know you’ll be on our sides when they arise!”

“And where do you suppose that comes from?”

But Gillenormand was already off, pointing out the flags with a waggling finger. “My, god! Look at the presentation of the flags!”

Javert turned to Valjean, smirked, then stalked off, a harsh cackle erupting from his throat.

Outside, where the music was muffled and the moon bathed the courtyard, the Valjean children peered through the open doors. Their eyes followed each dancer with captivity.

“I think the women look beautiful,” gushed Eponine, looking down at her age-appropriate dress that completely hid her neck and left everything to the imagination. The dark-haired girl spared an envious glance at her sister, whose form-fitting hems showed her knees, elbows, and collarbone in the nicest of ways. Cosette’s dainty feet were slipped into a pair of heeled shoes, and she did not don a pair of thick stockings like Eponine. Her hair was tied back with a pink bow to match her pink gown, and white gloves covered her slender fingers.

Eponine, on the other hand, was dressed in a baggy brown dress that _most scandalously_ halted above her ankles. Her tall, attractive legs were dressed in thick, white stockings and ugly green clogs covered her feet. On the plus side, her dark hair was braided creatively about her head.

The eldest, Enjolras, looked nothing short of dazzling in a fresh, new red shoulder jacket, accordion vest of maroon, with buttons and buckles of mock gold that shined like the real thing. His trousers framed his hips and buttoned at the side, a style that seemed to captivate his generation at the moment. Around his waist, in a regal fashion, was a silk belt of the most romantic of reds, and upon his feet were shiny boots without a single scuff.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre wore similar styles. Beneath their waistcoats were fastened vests of green and blue, with a white shirt beneath. A scarf tie hung around each boy’s neck, but Courfeyrac, in his nature, had loosened his incredibly. Combeferre’s glasses still didn’t fit. Courfeyrac’s curls spilled gracefully over his forehead and neck, spared of gels.

Little Jehan wore breeches that reached his naval and tied on each side. Hanging from his shoulders was a salmon coat that stopped just short of his knees. His hair, like Courfeyrac’s, was finally let free from grease. Fantine had created two braids upon his head; the first, as usual, behind his ear, and the second poking out from beneath his bangs. Flowers sprinkled over his head, and a pink rose had been shoved not too gracefully through his buttonhole.

Lastly, Gavroche was wearing a dashing pair of blue trousers with a blue coat to match and a grey accordion vest beneath. When trying to do his hair, Fantine had just given up and allowed the tiny boy to let it down freely.

“I think they look ugly,” said Combeferre.

Courfeyrac giggled, “You only say that because you’re scared of them!”

“No, only grown men are afraid of women!” the boy retaliated.

Jehan stuck his nose in the room, surveyed everything, then announced, “I think the men look beautiful.”

“How would you know?” asked Courfeyrac.

Jehan just grinned and stuck his nose in the air. Enjolras rolled his eyes and wandered out into the courtyard, swaying softly to the waltz that had begun. His feet began to tap on the pavement, and then he bowed greatly and particularly nobody. Then, with mock surprise, as if someone had expressed the desire to dance with him, he gasped and threw his arms about his invisible dance partner. The other children giggled, and Eponine called out:

“Who are you dancing with, Enjolras?”

“Nobody,” replied the blond, his words escaping like a hum.

Cosette giggled and ran up, taking the empty spot within her brother’s arms. “Oh, yes, you are!”

The siblings laughed and paired up, dancing along to the music with differing levels of ability and grace. Then, a gentle tap was felt against both Cosette’s and Enjolras’s shoulders. They turned about and saw Marius and Grantaire.

“Mind if I cut in?” they asked in unison, tearing away their desired dance partner. Eponine watched furiously as Marius took Cosette in his arms. The Javert children were dressed just as dashingly, and Enjolras couldn’t help swooning at the sight of R in something other than a delivery uniform. The other boy was dressed in a fitting dress shirt, one that resembled a girdle almost, in the nicest shade of dark green to be found, and brown pantaloons. His under blouse had puffing sleeves and slim shoulders, and Enjolras could notice the other’s suspenders beneath the tight, green dress.

Marius wore blue trousers and a dress shirt of purest cream. His tan waist coat complemented the hat he wore upon his head of a similar color.

Bahorel’s wild bangs still flew out from his face, only now they looked less intimidating. Still, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, making the young boy look dangerously like a very short young man. He wore a purple sash about his waist and breeches of black.

Baby Bossuet, being in possession of a fresh two years, wore somewhat of a dress. The tiny boy had stained it on son dirt, and yet a smile remained on his face. Gavroche had made it his responsibility to care for Lesgle while their siblings waltzed like a bunch of blithering idiots.

Fantine, dressed quite plainly in a cotton dress of blue, emerged from the garden and beamed at the sight. “Why!” exclaimed she, calling pairs apart. “I had no idea you could dance!”

“We were afraid you’d make us dance,” shouted Eponine. “The Valjean Family Dancers!”

She twirled gracefully, her siblings and their guests laughing and clapping. Suddenly, a new, foreign song sprang from the instruments of the orchestra.

“What are they playing?” asked Combeferre. “I don’t recognize it.”

“It’s the Laendler, a folk dance from Austria. Many people become familiar when learning to dance,” Fantine told him.

“Show me,” he demanded.

“I haven’t danced since I was little…”

“You remember! Please?”

“Oh, alright! Here, take my hands.”

Fantine tried her hardest to teach the boy how to dance, and he was very good, but some parts challenged him greatly. The other children laughed and clapped at intervals, making Combeferre blush either way. His glasses slipped off his nose multiple times, and he stepped upon Fantine’s toes constantly. Finally, he just gave up (in a very noble way, however) and decided that as long as he had tried, no one could criticize him.

“Going to take more practice,” announced Fantine with a smile.

“Do allow me, will you?” said the Captain to Fantine as he emerged from the ballroom. Fantine nodded silently, words escaping her, and allowed him to lead her through the dance. Valjean’s dancing was brilliant, and every move seemed to outdo hers. Although, to a witness, it would seem that it instead complimented hers, and hers to his. Fantine’s cheeks turned scarlet, and the Captain’s eyes grew deep. Suddenly, Fantine pulled herself away. She was breathless, and Valjean was panting.

“I don’t remember anymore,” she breathed.

Cosette peered at her governess strangely. “Your face is all red,” said she.

“Is it?” said Fantine, covering her cheeks with her palms. “I don’t suppose I’m used to dancing…”

The Baroness entered the courtyard. Her expression resembled that of someone who had just witnessed a beggar eating manure or had sniffed an entirely terrible odor. Still, a wide smile graced her complexion, showing her yellowing teeth.

“That was wonderfully done,” she said, her words betraying her tone. “What a lovely couple you make.”

Fantine coughed nervously and began shuffling the children back into the ballroom. “The children should be saying goodnight,” she announced hurriedly. “We’ll be in the hall. There is something special that we have prepared.”

“Oh, how silly all your worrying looks now, Jean,” swooned the Baroness, taking his arm. “You thought you wouldn’t find a friend at the party.”

Valjean chuckled. “A bit chilly tonight, don’t you think?”

“I thought it looked rather warm...”

Back in the house, at the foot of the staircase, stood Fantine. “Attention! The children of Captain Valjean would like to bid you all goodnight.”

“ _There's a sad sort of clanging_ __  
From the clock in the hall  
And the bells in the steeple, too  
And up in the nursery  
An absurd little bird  
Is popping out to say coo-coo…”

“ _Coo-coo, coo-coo…_ ”

“ _Regretfully they tell us_ __  
But firmly they compel us  
to say goodnight…”

“ _Coo-coo_!” 

“ _To you_!”

“ _So long, farewell_ _  
Au revoir, goodnight_!”

Jehan stepped forward, smiling at the crowd. “ _I hate to go and leave this pretty sight_!”

His siblings mockingly kicked him out of line, and the flowery boy skipped up the stairs.

“ _So long, farewell_ _  
Au revoir, adieu_!”

Now, Cosette sashayed before the audience of guests and sang:

“ _Adieu, adieu_ _  
To you and you and you_!”

“ _So long, farewell_ _  
Au revoir, Auf Weidersehen_ …”

Enjolras sprang up toward the room and sent a grin in R’s direction.

“ _I'd like to stay_ _  
And taste my first champagne_!”

He turned to the Captain, “Yes?”

Valjean smiled, laughed, shook his head and replied, “No!”

The crowd laughed as Enjolras went up the stairs.

“ _So long, farewell_ _  
Au revoir, goodbye_!”

Courfeyrac stepped up, surprising all with his high note:

“ _I leave and heave_ __  
A sigh and say goodbye  
Goodbye!”

Both Eponine and Combeferre took the stage, their hands clasped.

“ _I'm glad to go_ _  
I cannot tell a lie_!”

“ _I flit, I float_ _  
I fleetly flee, I fly_!”

The pair twirled up the stairs, and Gavroche sat at the foot, his knees knocking.

“ _The sun has gone_ _  
To bed and so must I_ …”

“ _So long, farewell_ __  
Au revoir, goodbye  
  
Goodbye  
Goodbye  
Goodbye!”

The children all bowed at the head of the stairs. The audience clapped, and Valjean and Fantine alike swelled with pride. Thenardier threw his hands up, exclaiming, “Imagine what’d they’d do at the festival!” the followed a man with an expensive broach threatening to fall from his outfit. Then, he was brought back by seeing Fantine about to ascend the staircase.

“Wait right there!” he called. “I wish to speak with you!”

“Jean, you cannot possibly let this girl get away!” squeaked the Baroness, dangling on his arm again. “She must join the party!”

“Oh, no!” said Fantine. “I really can’t.”

“Oh, stop it!” laughed Auriville.

Valjean nodded at her. “You can if you wish, Mademoiselle.”

Thenardier took her hand and kissed it. “I insist,” he said. “You will be my dinner partner. Feuilly! Add another place next to my for Mademoiselle!”

Feuilly nodded. “As you wish!”

“It appears all to be arranged,” said Valjean.

“It does!” agreed the Baroness.

“I’m not suitably dressed,” declared Fantine, red cheeked.

“You can change,” said Valjean. “We can wait.”

Fantine, obviously without any protest, bounded up the stairs to try and find something close to suitable to wear. Thenardier and the Baroness giggled and headed to refill their wine glasses, leaving the Captain. From the throng of partygoers, Javert and the Colonel reappeared, Javert holding the sleepy Bahorel in his arms, and Grantaire behind him with Bossuet in his.

“You must be very proud of your youngsters, Captain!” the Colonel said.

Valjean smiled and bowed his head. “I am, thank you.”

“Is there a more beautiful expression of what is good in our country,” reflected Javert, “than the innocent voices of our children?”

“Oh, come now, Inspector,” laughed the Colonel.

Javert nodded hastily. “Would you have us believe that France holds a monopoly on virtue?”

“Hirah, Colonel,” sighed Valjean. “Someof us prefer the voices of martyrs raised in song… to hideous threats from the higher government and monarchy.”

“The ostrich hides his head in the sand, Jean,” Javert retorted.

“And sometimes in the flag,” added the Colonel, nodding toward the flags on the banisters.

“Perhaps those who tell you of Louis Phillipe rising, and he is… would get further with you by setting their words to music,” mumbled Javert, glaring.

The Captain smirked and erected his posture. “If the revolution fails, then you will be the entire trumpet sections, Hirah.”

Javert sneered, “You flatter me, Jean.”

“Oh, how foolish of me,” said Valjean. “I was trying to accuse you.”


	8. Accidentally in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Baroness uses her sly ways to run Fantine away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fecking forgot about this fic you all probably hate me also this chapter is short and sucks. also guys I know it says maria some places ok i write these at like three am

“It’s very kind of you to offer me help, Baroness.”

“I’m delighted, Fantine.”

The party was still bopping about downstairs. Another song was erupting from the orchestra, and Fantine could not help but tap her toes to the simple waltz. The Baroness and Fantine were in the governess’s bedroom. Fantine was already feeling nervous at the way the Baroness, dressed in her expensive gown and fanning herself with Chinese silk, sneered at her grey walls and laced windows. Shaking these insecurities away, she pulled off her dress.

“I don’t think I have anything acceptable!” she declared, her voice muffled in the fabric of her dress.

The Baroness shook her head and threw open the near empty wardrobe. “Oh!’ she exclaimed. “Now where is that pretty little thing you wore last night when the Captain couldn’t keep his eyes off you?”

Fantine’s neck snapped up. “When he couldn’t keep his eyes off me?”

“Fantine, really,” said the Baroness, “we are women. Let’s not pretend we don’t know when men notice us.”

She produced the “pretty little thing” from the wardrobe and set it on the bed. “Here we are!”

“The Captain notices everybody,” murmured Fantine, turning pink.

With her hands on her hips and legs cocked, the Baroness let out a nasally laugh. “There really is no need to be so defensive, Fantine!” she giggled. “You really are rather attractive. The Captain would barely be a man if he didn’t notice you.”

The governess could hardly believe her ears. “I do hope you’re joking, Baroness.”

“Not at all,” she replied.

“I’ve never done a thing to –”

“You didn’t have to!” the Baroness tittered. “There’s nothing more attractive to a man than a woman who’s in love with him.”

“In love with him?” Fantine gasped.

“Of course! The best part is that he thinks he’s in love with you!”

“But that’s not true,” said Fantine.

“Surely you’ve noticed the way he looks into your eyes,” the Baroness pointed out, as if it was some simple subject. “And you know you were blushing in his arms when you were dancing just now.”

Fantine had covered her cheeks with her hands. They had become warm and red, like the hair of the Bahorel and Marius boys across the street.

“Don’t take it to heart,” said the Baroness. “He’ll get over it. They always do.”

“Then I should go,” said Fantine. “I mustn’t stay here!”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” the Baroness asked in a mock voice of sympathy.

“No, nothing.”

“Yes.”

“And don’t speak a word of this to the captain,” warned Fantine.

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Baroness de Thenard gasped.

Fantine finished packing the bag she had produced from beneath the bed, slipped her dress back on, and grabbed the doorknob. She was about to turn it, but her entire body froze. In love with the Captain? She didn’t mean to! It was a simple mistake! She was here on business for the church. Business for God! Fantine felt like she had destroyed a family. The Baroness was so kind, not becoming livid when she discovered the governess was in love with her partner. Fantine had to run. Run away and pay for her sins. Then, she would take her vows, so nothing like this could ever happen again.

The Baroness glided back down the stairs and stood beside Thenardier. She finally let the sly grin paint over her face that she’d been keeping in. Uncle Felix looked at her and smiled.

“Champagne, darling?” he slurred, handing her a glass with shaking hands.

The Baroness pressed a kiss to his temple and took the glass. “I feel like celebrating,” she squealed. “Oh! Cheers!”

Their glasses chinked and each took a sip.

“You look like you know something,” said Thenardier softly.

“Perhaps,” the Baroness answered.

“If you know so much,” said Thenardier, “then tell me how to get Mademoiselle to influence Jean. I want those children in the festival. Auriville, this is very important to France.”

“Wouldn’t do you much harm, either.”

“I thought of that.”

“If it’s influence you’re inquiring about,” murmured the Baroness, “then maybe the person you should be talking to… is me.”


	9. Climb Every Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //It's going to end soon! Don't worry, though! Another Les Musicals Crossover is coming your way! I'll also be updating B&B tonight so watch out for that bad boy... The Importance of Being Marius is very hard to type up, guys, like honestly. It's gonna take a while for each chapter to make it to you lot. The musicals are so much easier. Uhm, if you can't tell I get a bit lazier around here because the Sound of Music film (which is what I'm basing this off of because it's so much easier) and even the musical are just incredibly slow and in pieces after intermission. This may just be a me thing but I stop enjoying myself after intermission... Anywhoodles, I'm very excited about the new Les Musicals Crossover and hope you will be, too! I love the reviews and you guys have been the best ever! So patient... Concerning these not being in the crossover section, a crossover usually means that characters from both universe interact, and I can't do that. That isn't a thing here. It's so not going to happen. Like, this is like FETCH. Not gonna happen. Evar.

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Four.”

“Five.”

“Six.”

“Seven.”

“Eight.”

In the garden the children stood in a circle, the Baroness oddly shoved between them. A rubber ball was thrown to each, and the person counted out their number while catching it. Gavroche, using all of his muscle, tosse

Baroness1enjolras2cos3ep4cour5comb6jeh7gav8

d the ball over to Eponine. “Four.”

Eponine tossed it to Enjolras. “Two.”

Enjolras to Jehan. “Seven.”

Jehan threw it to Courfeyrac. “Five.”

Five to Two.

Two to Six.

Six to One.

“Isn’t this fun?” asked the Baroness shakily after missing the ball. She walked over to it and grabbed it with uncertainty. “Four.”

“I’m number five,” Courfeyrac corrected her, handing the ball to the real number four, Eponine.

“Oh, right!”

They all rolled their eyes and continued throwing the ball about.

“Eight.”

“Two.”

“Four.”

“Six.” The ball was thrown to the Baroness again, who missed it (again), and had to chase after it (again).

“Baroness de Thenard, do you mind if we stop now? We’re tired.”

“Whatever you want, dear,” she replied. “We’ll do it again tomorrow.”

All seven children walked away, looking bored and annoyed. Wiping her grin away, de Thenard sighed and clomped up to the deck. Thenardier smirked at her. “The country’s so restful, isn’t it?” he teased. “Have some lemonade.”

She took a glass and downed it in one gulp. “There must be an easier way.”

“I get a fiendish delight thinking of you as the mother of seven,” Thenardier laughed. “How do you plan to do it?”

“Darling, haven’t you ever heard,” replied de Thenard, giggling mischievously , “of a delightful little thing called boarding school?”

The children came out once again and stood before the pair. If you squinted, one would probably see a dark rain cloud above their heads. Jehan lolled his head sadly, and Thenardier noted that there were no flowers woven into the little boy’s hair.

“Uncle Felix, where’s Papa?” he asked.

“I think he’s in the house,” the uncle answered. “What’s the matter with all you gloomy pussies?”

“Nothing.”

“I know!” exclaimed Thenardier. “Let’s have a reheasl!”

“What for?” asked Cosette.

“Let’s make believe we’re on-stage at the festival!” said their Uncle.

“I don’t feel like singing,” whined Combeferre.

“Not without Mademoiselle Fantine,” continued Gavroche.

“Enjolras, go get the guitar,” Felix commanded softly. “Come now, Courfeyrac. Everybody into the group. Get in your places.”

All seven gloomy faces organized into a sad little clump. Their heads hung and frowns sagged. Uncle Felix bit his lip, puffing out his cheeks in concern. Concern for what he was going to do at festival with seven unhappy children, really.

“Now be cheerful, right?” said he. “Give us the key, Enjolras. Now, impress me!”

Six of seven sang. The song was pretty, yes, but off key and off tune. A song about happiness had been made into a song about sadness without even changing the lyrics. Annoyed, Thenarder shushed them and called over Gavroche, who had not sung at all.

“Gavroche, why don’t you sing?” he asked the boy.

“I can’t!” Gav answered, showing the small bandage wrapped about his index finger. “I’ve got a sore finger!”

“But you sang so beautifully the night of the party,” Felix insisted. “Come on, all of you. Try something you know. Enjoy it. Be cheerful!”

“ _The hills are alive,_  
With the sound of music  
With songs they have sung  
For a thousand years  
  
The hills fill my heart,  
With the sound of music…”

Captain Valjean, who looked as disappointed as his children were but was doing a terrific job of masking it, walked out. He smiled at the Baroness who had blew him a kiss. The children started at the sight of their father. His eyebrows joined in confusion.

“Oh!” exclaimed Uncle Felix. “They wanted to sing for me, bless their hearts.”

“That’s lovely, lovely,” said the Captain in a dazed voice. “Don’t stop.”

“Father?” Combeferre squeaked.

“Yes, Combeferre?” replied Valjean.

“Is it true Mademoiselle Fantine isn’t coming back?” he asked.

Valjean nodded and made chore of becoming preoccupied with the pitcher before Thénardier and the Baroness. “Yes, I suppose it’s true,” he said. “What have we got here?”

“Pink lemonade,” Thenardier answered, grinning deviously. “Laced with lemonade.”

“I don’t believe it, Papa,” protested Cosette, crossing her arms and cocking a hip.

“What?” the Captain replied, missing her meaning completely.

“About Mademoiselle Fantine!” Cosette cried.

“Oh, Mademoiselle Fantine!” parroted Valjean. “Didn’t I tell you what her note said? I’m sure I did. She said she missed her life at the abbey. She had to leave us. And that’s all there is to it.”

“She didn’t even say goodbye,” Jehan whimpered.

“She did in her note.”

“That isn’t the same thing.”

Combeferre pushed his glasses up his nose and stepped forward. “Papa, who is our new governess going to be?” he asked.

“Well…” replied Valjean, a smile plastering itself across his face. “You are not going to have a governess anymore.”

“We’re not?” Courfeyrac gasped.

“No. You’re going to have a new mother.”

The children all immediately shifted their gaze to the Baroness. She was pink cheeked and giggling embarrassingly in the chair with a smug expression. “A new mother?” their tiny voices questioned together, provoking tiny heartbreak.

“We talked about it last night,” said the Captain. “It’s all settled. And we’re all going to be very happy.”

They continued to stare at him. It seemed they were waiting for something. Perhaps for their father to begin laughing and say it was all a joke. Or even Baroness de Thenard to drop dead right then and there. Any of the two would’ve been acceptable. Only, none of that happened. The Captain only looked uncomfortable, and the Baroness was still breathing and slurping pink lemonade.

“Well, all right, all right. Run off and play.”

… Enjolras’s knuckles beat against the big wooden door of the abbey. The Valjean children heard the patter of feet against cobblestone, and soon enough a Sister had opened the door. She smiled softly and looked over them all. “Yes, my children?” she hummed.

“My name is Enjolras,” announced the boy.

“Yes, Enjolras?”

“We, my brothers and sister, want to see Mademoiselle Fantine,” said Enjolras. Behind him, the other Valjean brood nodded in agreement.

“Mademoiselle Fantine?” questioned the sister, as if she had never heard of the person. “Oh, Fantine. Come in, please.”

With trembling fingers and aching hearts, the children struggled to keep composure as the sister brought them into the abbey and told them to wait. Jehan bounced about, the flowers he’d picked for Fantine falling around his body. The sister left, then returned soon after with another woman of greater age.

“I’m Sister Fauchelevent,” said the nun with a smile. “I understand you inquired about Fantine.”

“We have to see her,” insisted Cosette. “Will you tell her we’re here?”

Sister Fauchelevent shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“But you got to!” cried Gavroche.

“She’s our governess,” said Courfeyrac.

“We want her back,” added Combeferre.

“She didn’t even say goodbye,” Eponine murmured sadly.

Enjolras looked at the sister with those big eyes of his, hope shaking through his veins. “All we want to do is talk to her,” he said.

“I’m very sorry, but Fantine is in seclusion,” the nun told them.

“She hasn’t been seeing anyone,” the second one pointed out.

“She’ll see us!” Jehan wailed, wiping a small tear from his eye.

Gavroche held his finger up high. The bandage was falling apart and dirty, barely hanging onto the little boy’s skin. “I want to show her my finger.”

“Some other time, dear,” Sister Fauchelevent told him, patting his head. “I’ll tell her you were here. It was sweet of you to call.”

“We have to speak to her!” shouted Enjolras.

But the sisters were already shoving them out the door, much like their father. “Run along, children. Run along home.”

“I’m sure she’d like to see us,” came Cosette, her eyes wet with tears. “Sister Fauchelevent, please.”

“Goodbye, children!”

The big doors slammed shut and all that could be heard was the muffled cries from the other side. Sister Fauchelevent shook her head, then headed back towards the abbey. Hearing the muffled voices, the Reverend Mother appeared by her side. For a moment they walked, but then the Mother spoke:

“What was that about, Sister?”

“The Valjean children, Reverend Mother,” Fauchelevent answered. “They want to see Fantine.”

“Has she spoken yet?” asked the Mother. “Has she told you anything.”

The Sister shook her head sadly. “She doesn’t say a word, Reverend Mother, except in prayer.”

“Poor child…”

“It’s strange,” continued the Sister. “She seems happy to be back here…”

“… and yet she’s unhappy too,” the Reverend Mother finished. “Perhaps I have been wrong in leaving her alone so long. Bring her to me, even if she’s not ready.”

“Yes, Reverend Mother.”

… Fantine walked shyly towards the Reverend Mother, then hastily bent down to kiss her hand. She took a seat, and yet, even the most simple of actions looked sorrowful as she did them. The Mother frowned and analyzed the woman.

“You’ve been unhappy,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Reverend Mother…”

“Why did they send you back to us?”

Fantine frowned and stared at her feet. She ran her tongue over her teeth before admitting,“They didn’t send me back. I left.”

“Tell me what happened,” commanded the Reverend Mother.

“I was frightened,” whispered Fantine, shame ringing through her words.

“Frightened?” The Mother’s brows came together in concern. “Were they unkind to you?”

“Oh, no!” shouted Fantine. She blushed at her outburst, then continued, “No, I was confused. I felt… I’ve never felt that way before. I couldn’t stay. I knew that here I’d be away from it. I’d be safe.”

“Fantine, our abbey is not to be used as an escape,” The Mother told her sternly. Sternly, yet understandingly. “What is it you can’t face?”

“I can’t face him again!” croaked Fantine. Her voice broke and she hid her face in her palms.

“Him? Captain Valjean? Are you in love with him?” The Reverend Mother spaced her questions appropriately, but they still pierced Fantine like knives. She had done wrong. She was supposed to be the governess and help prepare the children for a new mother, yet she slipped up completely.

“I don’t know!” Fantine snuffled. “I… The baroness said I was. She said that her was in love with me. But I didn’t want to believe it. There were time we looked at each other… I could hardly breathe!”

“Did you let him see your feelings?” inquired the Mother further.

“I don’t know! That’s what’s torturing me. I was on God’s errand. To have asked for his love would have been wrong. I just couldn’t stay… I’m ready at this moment to take my vows. Please help me.”

“Fantine…” said the Reverend Mother, laughing affectionately. “The love of a man and a woman is holy. You have a great capacity to love. You must find out how God wants you to spend your love. You must find out how God wants you to spend your love.”

“But I pledged my life to God,” insisted Fantine, sniffling like a child. “I pledged my life to his service.”

“My daughter, if you love this man, it doesn’t mean you love God less.”

“No.”

“You must find out,” demanded the Mother. “You must find out.”

“You can’t ask me to do that… Please let me stay! I beg…”

“Fantine!” she was shushed. “These walls were not built to shut out problems. You have to face them. You have to live the life you were born to live…”

“ _Climb every mountain,_ __  
Search high and low,  
Follow every byway,  
Every path you know.  
  
Climb every mountain,  
Ford every stream,  
Follow every rainbow,  
'Till you find your dream.  
  
A dream that will need  
All the love you can give,  
Every day of your life  
For as long as you live.  
  
Climb every mountain,  
Ford every stream,  
Follow every rainbow,  
Till you find your dream  
  
A dream that will need  
All the love you can give,  
Every day of your life,  
For as long as you live.  
  
Climb every mountain,  
Ford every stream,  
Follow every rainbow,  
Till you find your dream.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are getting shorter per chapter not because I'm trying to extend this, but because I'm basing it off the movie and after intermission it gets so incredibly choppy (and in my opinion boring). I've stated Freshman year, too, so I can already feel my sanity being sucked out through my nose. You get it. So sorry if these start to suck, I guess? I'm really trying, guys, but I'll write three pages and have to stop. Like, there are points when you kind of have to stop. I just can't make it go smooth. I hope none of you become disappointed, but I really really am trying to not... suck... so much... and not sucking is hard...

“It’s not like my children to be secretive,” Captain Valjean chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the line of guilty children that stood before him.

“We’re not being secretive, Papa,” murmured Cosette. She smiled slightly at her fib. Enjolras pulled on her wrist, causing her to look down at the floor immediately.

The Captain laughing slightly. Of course he knew they were hiding something… not exactly what it was but he had a good idea. How could they have not gone up to the abbey to see Fantine? He himself was having a difficult time resisting the urge to visit her as well. That wouldn’t have been proper, though, would it have been? A man doesn’t simply visit an abbey… If he’s going to see the old governess of his children he certainly does not go alone. People would begin to make assumptions, and assumptions are things that you do not need being made when you have been engaged…

“And it’s not like my children to be late for dinner,” he added.

“We… We…” Combeferre pinched the bridge of his nose as he struggled to create a tale. “We lost track of the time.”

Valjean nodded in approval. That sounded believable. “I see…” said he. “Who’s going to be the first one to tell me the truth?”

He passed his gaze over seven guilty faces. Each child was biting their lip and rolling their eyes. Courfeyrac was even wiggling his ears. Jehan was squirming, even. Only Eponine and Gavroche seemed perfectly innocent (but they never looked innocent, so this wasn’t helpful to them).

“Cosette? Combeferre? Enjolras?”

“Where do you think we were, Papa?” asked Jehan.

“If you don’t believe us,” started Eponine, “then you must have some idea of where you think we were.”

“Jehan,” said the Captain.

“Yes, Papa?”

“You tell me,” he demanded.

Jehan looked down at the ground. Lying was not something that came naturally to him, and he grew very scared suddenly. Courfeyrac groaned, as he knew the little boy would blow their cover. “Cosette told you, Papa,” he said. “We were berry picking.”

“I forgot!” their father exclaimed with mock belief. “You were berry picking!”

“Yes, we love berry picking!” squealed Jehan.

“All afternoon?”

“We picked thousands!” Gavroche giggled.

“Thousands?”

Combeferre nodded in reply. “They were all over the place.”

“What kind of berries?”

“Blueberries, sir.”

“Blueberries?” Valjean scratched at his scruff. He pulled a puzzled face as he pretended to think over their answer. “It’s too early for blueberries.”

“They were strawberries!” Cosette yelped, her face turning red.

“Strawberries?”

“It’s been so cold lately, they turned blue,” Enjolras provided as an explanation.

The Captain seemed to accept this answer and the children let out sighs of relief. “Very well. Show me the berries.”

Seven jaws dropped simultaneously as Valjean asked to see the berries. Obviously, there was no berries. No one had any. Jehan didn’t even have a single berry tree flower to present. Their pockets were sitting there; empty and mocking them. Enjolras went as far as to whip his head around their yard in search of a random pile of blue strawberries. No such luck.

“We don’t have them,” admitted Eponine.

“You don’t have them? What happened to them?”

Jehan began to clap his hands, a sign that an idea had come to him.“We ate them!”

“You ate them?”

“Yes!”

“They were so good!”

“Delicious!”

“Very well.” Captain Valjean stood erect and began walking towards the house. “Since you’ve obviously stuffed yourselves on thousands of berries… you can’t be hungry anymore, so I’ll have to tell Joly… to skip your dinner.”

He left. The Valjean brood all groaned loudly when they were sure he was out of earshot. Their stomachs rumbled, and Eponine fell to the ground to whine about how her stomach was going to swallow her whole she was so hungry. Combeferre stood in silent agony.

“It’s your fault,” Eponine said to Cosette. “We should have just told him the truth.”

“And made him boiling mad at us?” the blonde snapped in retaliation.

“It’s better than starving to death!” replied Eponine.

“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Courfeyrac sighed. “We just wanted to see her.”

On the ground, from Eponine, came a great wail. “My stomach’s making noises.”

“The least they could have done was let us say hello,” Jehan murmured, rubbing at his eyes.

“I wonder what grass tastes like,” Eponine pondered. She grabbed a blade and stared at it, contemplating how many she would have to eat to take place of her supper.

Gavroche was lifted up into Courfeyrac’s arms. He shook his head against his brothers curls and cried without tears. “I feel awful.”

“When Mademoiselle Fantine wanted to feel better she used to sing that song… Let’s try it.”

“ _R_ _aindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens_... _  
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens_ … _  
Brown paper packages tied up with strings_ … _  
These are a few of my favorite things_ … _  
  
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels_ … _  
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles_ … _  
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings_ … _  
These are a few of my favorite things_ … _  
  
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes_ … __  
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes…”

“ _Silver white winters that melt into springs_!” from the gates came Mademoiselle Fantine, bags in hand. She sang loud and proud, an enormous smile plastered on her face. Within her mind she was doing the right thing. There are times when the love of your heart will need to be overshadowed by love of family. __  
  


“Mademoiselle Fantine is back!!”

“ _These are a few of my favorite things_ __  
  
When the dog bites  
When the bee stings  
When I'm feeling sad  
I simply remember my favorite things  
And then I don't feel so bad!”

Mademoiselle Fantine tried her hardest to wrap her arms around all seven wonderful children. It was no surprise that Courfeyrac, Jehan, and Gavroche had brought themselves as close as possible to her body. Loving children like those three took a hug like it was their last supper. Cosette, Eponine, and Combeferre linked themselves to Fantine’s arms in a fashionable cuddle. What was shocking, however, was when Enjolras pressed a kiss to Fantine’s cheek before hugging her.

“Children!” Fantine gasped. “I’m so glad to see you!”

“We missed you!” Jehan laughed in delight.

“I missed you.”

Fantine looked at Eponine. “How are you, darling?”

“Hungry,” Eponine wailed.

Gavroche wave his tiny injured finger in front of the governess. Fantine pressed a kiss to it. “What happened to your finger?” she asked.

“It got caught,” he answered.

“Caught in what?”

“Cosette’s teeth.”

They all chuckled. The hug had loosened, but they were still standing within their personal spaces. If you aren’t going to be hugging you may as well be breathing down one another’s neck. Fantine smiled and cupped Enjolras’s cheek in her palm. The teen smiled and blushed. “Enjolras, you all right?” she asked him.

“Just fair,” he answered.

“Any telegrams been delivered lately?” she asked, a knowing look in her eyes.

“None at all,” Enjolras replied. He looked down sadly and sighed, “But I’m learning to accept i. I’ll be glad when school begins.”

“Enjolras, you can’t use school to escape your problems. You have to face them… I have so much to tell you.”

“We have things to tell you too,” Cosette said. “The most important thing is that Papa is going to be married.”

Fantine couldn’t help her face dropping. She gulped loudly, trying to hide the disappointment she really should not be feeling. “Married?”

“Yes, to Baroness de Thenard,” said Eponine.

“Oh, I see.”

“Children? What’s going on?”

Captain Valjean had come through the door to tell his children they could in fact have supper and that food was waiting for them at the table, but he was stopped short. His jaw dropped to Australia when he saw Mademoiselle Fantine standing again in his yard. Why? He knew. He knew very well why the sight of her was making him feel moved. He didn’t feel moved when he saw the Baroness. When she walked in the room it was a completely normal situation. Why should someone grow excited because someone walked through the door or are standing in their yard? No idea, but the Captain’s heart swelled when he saw Fantine. His cheeks were red and he felt once again like a young fellow…

“Papa!”

“Papa look!”

“Mademoiselle Fantine is back!”

“Mademoiselle Fantine is back from the abbey!”

Cheeks pink, Fantine looked at the Captain. “Good evening, Captain,” she mumbled.

“Good evening,” he replied. “Ev… Everyone inside for dinner.”

Eponine tore past everyone as she ran towards the house. “DINNER!”

When the rest of the children had given their last hugs to Fantine, they left after Eponine to eat dinner. Captain chuckled at his children and even slipped a lily into Jehan’s limp braid. Long after the last child had went through the door the Captain and the governess continued to stare at the door. It kept them from facing each other.

“You left without saying goodbye,” said Valjean after many moments of silence. “Even to the children.”

“It was wrong of me,” replied the governess. “Forgive me.”

“Why did you?” he asked.

“Please don’t ask,” she demanded in a scared voice. “The reason no longer exists.”

Just then the Baroness de Thenard appeared. She was like a viper – hidden in the shadows until she’s ready to strike out of nowhere. She wrapped an arm around Valjean’s own and pressed a selfish kiss to his lips in front of Fantine. The Captain turned an angry shade of red.

“Mademoiselle Fantine, you’ve returned,” she said, her voice dropping in disappointment. “Isn’t it wonderful, Jean.”

“I wish you every happiness, Baroness,” Fantine forced out. “You too, Captain. The children say you’re to marry.”

“Thank you, my dear,” the baroness replied cheekily.

“You are back to stay?” Valjean asked, seeming more consumed with the answer to his question than the attractive young woman currently dangling off his arm.

“Only until arrangements can be made for another governess,” Fantine answered sadly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, have I been busy! High school drains the soul, my friends. I'm back on a roll, and I am typing up Importance of Being Marius you are reading this! That one is a "lazy fic" as I like to call it. I may update it like, once a month. Please don't mind. I'm uploading a one shot later for Welcome to Night Vale so check back on my works if you're interested in that jazz. I know I said a while back about uploading a new crossover, and I was about to, but are you guys ch-- you know what? I'mma post it. I'm far enough with it already.

After supper that night, Captain Valjean retired to the balcony. His eyes were tired. Hands that seemed to be years ahead of the rest of him grabbed onto the banister. During dinner, Combeferre had inquired his father if he was feeling ill, the mention of which sparked something within the Duchess and had her doting annoyingly upon him for the rest of supper. It would be sizable lying to say he wasn’t relieved to finally leave her at the table.

“There you are!” her voice, which had suddenly become incredibly obnoxious, erupted loudly from the door. “I must speak to cook about the schnitzel. It is entirely too delicious for my figure… And it makes you much too quiet at the dinner table.”

She looked at him expectantly, but he simply continued to stare out at his garden.

“Or was it the wine?” she picked up again. “Undoubtly the wine.”

Still, he spoke nothing. The Baroness became determined.

“You have no idea the trouble I’m having…” said she, loud and into his ear. When her beginning statement sparked no action she continued, “trying to decide on a wedding present for you.”

You know, it was getting rather bothersome how silent he was. She may as well be talking to a wall. She’d have gotten more of a reaction from it.

“Oh, I know. I’m enough. But I do want you to have some little trifle for the occasion. At first I thought of a fountain pen… but you’ve already got one. Then I thought perhaps a villa in the south of Scotland… but they are so difficult to gift wrap. Jean, darling, how do you feel about yachts? A nice, long, sleek one for the sea, of a tiny one for your bathtub?”

“Auriville,” he spoke finally, murmuring her name like a forbidden word.

“Where to go on our honeymoon?” Auriville went on, as she’d almost forgotten he was there. “Now that is an actual problem. A trip around the world could be lovely, but them… Oh, Auriville there must be somewhere better!”

“Auriville!” he snapped.

“Yes, Jean?”

“It’s no use,” the Captain groaned. “You and I. I’m being dishonest to both of us, and utterly unfair to you. When two people…”

“No!” the Baroness interrupted. “No, don’t. Don’t say another word, please. You see, as fond as I am of you I’m not sure you’re the proper man for me. Independent… I can’t be with someone who is independent. I need someone who needs me desperately… or my money desperately. I need Felix to need me…. I’ve enjoyed every moment we’ve had together and I do thank you for that.”

“Do not think I did – ”

“Don’t, darling. If you’ll forgive me, I’ll go inside and pack my little bags.”

The Baroness turned and went to the door. “Jean, somewhere out there is a young woman who, I think, will never be a nun.”

“Thank you, Auriville.”

“Au revoir, darling.” The Baroness de Thenard opening the glass doors and left, the scent of her perfume still wafting in the air. Valjean stood by, his thoughts rumbling about his noggin like gymnasts. Then, in a swift movement of joints, he was down the steps and under the awning.

“Hello,” Fantine’s soft voice called out as he approached. “You look like you’ve ran a race.”

“I thought I just might find you here,” Captain Valjean replied. His cheeks were red, but his eyes were energized. “You know, I was thinking about things and wondering… Why did you run back to the abbey? What made you come back?”

“I had obligations to fulfill,” she replied, turning down her face.

“Is that all?” he questioned.

“And… I missed the children.”

“Only the children?”

“No… Isn’t it right that I missed them?” Fantine gasped, pacing about the awning.

Captain Valjean, his mind at the level of a pubescent teenage boy, bit his lip nervously. “I was only hoping that perhaps you… perhaps you…”

“Yes?”

“Well, nothing was the same without you here,” he admitted. “And it will all be wrong again if you leave.”

“If?”

“I can’t help hoping that perhaps you might change your mind,” he finished.

“I’m sure the baroness will make things fine for you,” Fantine insisted, mumbling.

“Fantine,” said Valjean, “there isn’t going to be a baroness. I mean, there will… but not in my household. Not as my wife.”

Fantine gasped. “What? There isn’t?”

“No.”

“I don’t understand,” she laughed nervously.

“We called of our engagement,” Valjean explained. “See, you can’t marry someone when you’re in love with someone else.”

“The revered Mother says whenever the Lord closes a door, He opens a window somewhere.”

“What else does the Reverend Mother say?”

“That you have to look for your life…”

“Is that why you came back?” he asked, taking her hands in his own and holding them tight. “And have you found it… Fantine?”

She smiled softly and nodded. “I think I have.”

“I know you have,” he replied.

“I love you…”

“ _Perhaps I had a wicked childhood_ __  
Perhaps I had a miserable youth  
But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past  
There must have been a moment of truth

 _For here you are, standing there, loving me_ __  
Whether or not you should  
So somewhere in my youth or childhood  
I must have done something good

 _Nothing comes from nothing_ __  
Nothing ever could  
So somewhere in my youth or childhood  
I must have done something good,” Fantine sang softly, letting the Captain hold her and kiss her and love her. No guilt filled her soul. Only happiness and ease. And, for the first time, Fantine saw a genuine smile spread across Jean Valjean’s face.

“ _For here you are, standing there, loving me_ _  
Whether or not you should_ ,” sang he.

“ _So somewhere in my youth or childhood_ _  
I must have done something good_ …”

Their fingers intertwined together, knuckles turning white for they held one another tightly. “ _Nothing comes from nothing_ _  
Nothing ever could_ …”

“ _So somewhere in my youth_ ,” she murmured.

“ _Or childhood_.”

“ _I must have done something_ . . .”

“ _Something good_ …”

Their lips met softly in a simple, chaste kiss. Hands against hands, chest against chest. Wind blew through the awning and mused their hair, throwing it about in tangled messes, but not a care was given. Valjean, chuckling and murmuring, pulled away and rested his head against her forehead. “Do you know when I first started loving you?” he asked sweetly.

“Tell me,” she breathed.

“That night at dinner, when you sat on that ridiculous pine cone,” he laughed.

“I knew the first time you blew that silly whistle!” Fantine giggled, nuzzling into his neck.

“Oh, my love,” Valjean whispered into her ear. “Is there anyone I should ask for permission to marry you?”

“Why don’t we ask…”

“The children?”

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two in one day whoop whoop

After the wedding and well into the Captain and his blushing bride’s honeymoon, Thenardier was practicing with the children at the theatre. They kept corpsing, their giggles echoing around the huge establishment. From one of the many openings, Javert walked in, Marius trailing him and Bossuet dangling from his arms. Bahorel ran in after his father, his face red and cheeks wet with tears. Cosette gasped, thinking that Bahorel had been lost.

“Stay with Papa, Bahorel, you lazy boy,” Javert snapped. “Thenardier!”

“Inspector Javert!” their uncle exclaimed, approaching the inspector.

“Perhaps you’ve not heard,” Javert said. “I’m head of the National Guard now.”

“Good for you?”

“I come from Captain Valjean’s house,” Javert detailed. “The only house still flying the red flags of the ‘Revolution.’ But we have dealt with that.”

“I don’t – ”

“The housekeeper said that I would find you here. The only thing he’d tell me.”

“What kind of information are you looking for?” Thenardier asked, raising a devious eyebrow.

“When will the captain return?” Javert questioned.

“He’s on his honeymoon,” answered Thenardier. “He has not been in touch.”

Javert raised an eyebrow, pulling a face meant to intimidate and embarrass Thenardier. “Am I to believe he hasn’t spoken a word to his children in over a month?”

“How many men do you know that communicate with their children while honeymooning?”

Javert huffed and readjusted Bossuet in his arms. “Upon his return, he’ll fill his proper position in the new order.”

“Inspector, might I say you seem to have your hands full with those little ones.”

“I cannot leave them alone at the house.”

“Why not get a governess?” Thenardier asked.

“I have no desire to go through such an emotional rollercoaster towards marriage,” Javert chuckled.

Thenardier smirked slightly but wiped it from his face. “May I congratulate you,” he said, “and your people in allowing the festival to go on tonight as planned.”

“Why shouldn’t we?” Javert inquired. “Nothing in France has changed. Music and song shall show that to the world. France has not changed.”

Javert, groaning, balanced his infant and grabbed his two other boys by the wrists to pull them out of the large theatre and into the streets. Enjolras’s face fell. He had been waiting… waiting for R to show himself and… oh, dare he say! Enjolras yearned to once again kiss those lips and gaze into those eyes. Uncle Felix had told him that weeks earlier a telegram boy had come to the house, parked his bike, and began throwing pebbles at the wall. He had not heard of his lover since.

The group left the theatre in a comical pack. “Why was he so cross?” asked Jehan.

“Everybody’s cross nowadays,” replied Courfeyrac.

“Maybe that Ex Charles man makes people nervous!” suggested Gavroche.

Jehan began tugging on Uncle Felix’s sleeve. “Will Papa be in trouble?”

“He doesn’t have to be,” answered their uncle. “The thing to do is to get along with everybody. Remember that tonight at the concert.”

“Are we really going to sing before a lot of people?” Eponine asked.

Thenardier pulled out the program from his pocket and showed it to them all. “See!” he exclaimed. “The Valjean Family Singers: Enjolras, Cosette, Eponine, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Jehan, and Gavroche.”

“Why am I always last?” whined the last little boy.

“Because you’re the most important,” Uncle Felix replied without hesitation, and picking up Gavroche. “There we go…”

Combeferre took the program in his hands. “Are you sure Papa will approve of our singing in public?”

“He’ll be pleased and proud.”

“Enjolras, do you think so?”

“Don’t you trust me?” Thenardier mocked insult.

“No,” Combeferre answered plainly.

“You’re a smart boy.”

“Enjolras! Enjolras!”

Enjolras whipped his head around to see Grantaire, looking very awkward and uncomfortable in a French military uniform. He still, however, had his satchel for telegrams slung about his neck. The blond ran towards him and threw arms around shoulders, but R didn’t respond.

“Grantaire!” he gushed. “I’m so glad to see you!”

“Good afternoon,” R said in a monotone voice. “Give this to your father as soon as he is home.”

A telegram was thrust into Enjolras’s thin fingers. “He’s on his honeymoon.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“We make it our business to know all.”

“Who is ‘we?’”

“See that he gets it,” snapped the other boy.

“What is it?” the blond asked.

“A telegram from Paris.”

Enjolras had the telegram back to R with a sly grin. “Oh,” he hummed, “don’t you want to deliver it yourself?”

Grantaire shoved it back. “I’m occupied with more important matters,” he said. “And your father had better be too.”

“But, R!”


	13. When did I stop creatively naming these

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> master update. these chapter probably suck and are tiny. enjoy the end.

“Papa!”

Captain Valjean, rehanging his red flag before the door, turned towards his approaching brood. He let a tired smile form on his lips while he tacked the edges of the red banner. “Hello,” he said, “hello.”

“We didn’t expect you home until next week,” Enjolras declared, holding the ends of his father’s ladder. “Did you bring anything from Vienna?”

“Why didn’t you call us?” Jehan asked, bestowing a hug to Fantine.

“We couldn’t get through,” answered Fantine, kissing his head.

Uncle Thenardier walked up, taking the ladder from Enjolras as the Captain began climbing down. Valjean’s feet hit the floor and he directed a tired look towards Thenardier. The Captain did looked significantly happier, what with a slightly-yellow smile and the absence of bags beneath his eyes. The grey in his hair now seemed attractive instead of senior. Fantine, as usual, was practically glowing.

“But never fear,” he said, embracing Combeferre. “We missed you.”

“We missed kissing you!” Cosette said, pressing a kiss to her mother’s cheek.

“We missed all the noise in the morning,” laughed Valjean.

Fantine laughed with him. “Mostly we missed hearing you sing.”

Courfeyrac threw his arms up ecstatically. “You came home just in time, then!” he exclaimed, grabbing the program and showing it to his mother. “Look, Mademoiselle Fantine… I mean Maman. We’re going to sing tonight at the festival!”

“We’ve had a lovely time!” announced Eponine.

“We’ve been rehearsing all…”

“Surprise! Surprise!” yelled the Captain, surprising everybody and making Uncle Thenardier jump a foot. “Surprises for you on the terrace.”

With mouths agape and eyes glittering, the children ran into the house. Fantine stood up and brushed off her dress with her hands, the expensive material feeling weird on her skin. Valjean huffed and turned toward Thenardier.

“We’ll be talking about this.”

“I would’ve told you but you were away,” defended Thenardier. “I had to make a last minute decision. I was fortunate to enter them at all. They’ll be the talk of the festival, trust me. Imagine, seven children in one family!”

“I don’t need to imagine my own family,” Valjean snapped. “I can imagine though that you did not deliberately disobey me.”

“Sorry, Papa,” whined Thenardier mockingly.

“Felix!” spat the Captain, swatting Thenardier on the shoulder. “I recall making it quite clear how I feel about my family singing in public!”

“The committee was enchanted.”

“What did they say?” asked Fantine, puffing up proudly.

Thenardier peered over Valjean and answered, “I have never seen such enthusiasm. Jean, don’t you think just this once…”

“Out of the question.”

“Jean, this is for France.”

“France? There is no France! General Lamarque is fading every minute.”

“It’ll be a peaceful passing…”

“Peaceful? They’re hosting riots on the street! Before his home!”

“Sometimes we have to deal with these things.”

Valjean raised an eyebrow and stared at the other man, who shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “Sometimes I don’t believe I know you,” the Captain breathed, looking over the other angrily before turning and leaving.

“He doesn’t understand, Fantine. If the children don’t sing, it will be a reflection on France’s people.”

 

Inside the house, Enjolras ran into the sitting room, where Fantine was sitting on the couch and sowing up Gavroche’s stockings. He smiled and sat down beside her, simply watching her fingers maneuver the needle and thread. Fantine didn’t mind, and enjoyed the company.

“Maman?” Enjolras spoke up. “That sounds so nice. I like calling you Maman.”

“I like hearing it,” Fantine hummed.

“Maman, you love Papa very much,” Enjolras said. “I can tell you do.”

“Very much,” she answered.

“Maman, what do you do when you think you love someone?” asked Enjolras. “I mean, when you stop loving someone or they stop loving you?”

“Well, you cry a little,” she said. “Then you wait for the sun to come out. It always does.”

“There are so many things I think I should know that I don’t!” groaned the blond teen, becoming frustrated. “Sometimes I feel the world is ending.”

“Then you feel it’s just beginning?” guessed Fantine, setting aside her sowing.

“Yes!”

Fantine laughed and hugged Enjolras, taking note that it still took the boy a little while to respond properly. “It was that way with me. For you it will be just as wonderful.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. When you’re…

 _sixteen going on seventeen_  
Waiting for life to start  
Somebody kind who touches your mind  
Will suddenly touch your heart…”

“ _When that happens, after it happens_  
Nothing is quite the same  
Somehow I know I'll jump up and go  
If ever he calls my name.”

“ _Gone are your old ideas of life_  
The old ideas grow dim  
Lo and behold you're someone's wife  
And you belong to him

 _You may think this kind of adventure_  
Never may come to you  
Darling sixteen going on seventeen  
Wait a year . . .”

“ _I'll wait a year . . ._ ”

“ _Just wait a year . . ._ ”

 _“Or two_.”

Suddenly, Valjean entered. Despite looking incredibly upset, he smiled when he saw his son and wife getting along. Enjolras looked toward his father and excused himself, slipping past the Captain and into the hall. Valjean sighed and unfolded the letter in his hands.

“What is it?” asked Fantine.

“The National Guard,” replied Valjean. “They’ve asked me to be present at the barricades. They say they plan to erect tonight. To refuse them would be fatal to all of us, but joining them would be unthinkable.”

They stood in silence, Valjean staring at the letter, thinking that perhaps it was all simple a dream he’d dreamed. He wouldn’t pretend that he hadn’t heard Enjolras show interest in the barricades. That was enough to try and handle, but what if Enjolras did go? What if Valjean went? What if they both went and it ended up with father against son? He trembled at the thought.

“Collect the children,” he ordered. “Don’t say anything to worry them. Just prepare them. We have to leave France… this house… tonight.”


	14. Car Trouble

“This strains my back and my heart,” grunted Thenardier, “when I think of the children missing the festival. By your announcement we’ll be over the border. Do you appreciate the sacrifice I’m making?”

“You have no choice,” the Captain replied.

“That’s why I’m making it.”

They were pushing the carriage down the street, the horse walking slowly before them. Cosette, Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Eponine were helping their father and uncle push the carriage. The others walked behind them.

“Why don’t we just get in the carriage?” Courfeyrac asked.

Cosette pressed a finger to her lips and shushed him. “Papa doesn’t want anyone to hear us.”

“What will Joly and Feuilly say?” asked Jehan.

“They will be able to honestly say they had no idea,” answered Fantine quietly.

“Will we be coming back here?” Enjolras asked, throwing a wistful glance toward the Javert house, R’s bike (that the author still isn’t even sure they had then) leaned against the door.

“I hope someday.”

“Something wrong, Captain?”

Everyone froze and turned around to face Javert, tagged by a group of National Guard officers.

“Yes, the horse is incredibly sensitive to the cobbled street and I don’t know how to clean its hooves,” the Captain answered.

Javert sent a guard over to the horse, and he pulled up the horse’s hooves for cleaning. The Inspector grinned smugly. “I have not asked you where your family are going. Nor have you asked me why I’m here.”

“Apparently we both suffer from a deplorable lack of curiosity,” replied the Captain, just as smug.

“You never answered our letter. You are supposed to be among our ranks tonight.”

“I was under the impressions that those types of things were kept private.”

The Inspector began to step forward, hoping to intimidate Valjean. Instead, the Captain stepped forward as well. “At last, Valjean, we see each other plain,” Javert sighed. “I have orders to take you with me to fight.”

“That would be quite impossible,” said Valjean. “We, all of us, are singing in the festival tonight. As a matter of fact, we’re going now.”

“We couldn’t possibly let them down,” interjected Thenardier. “I hope we’re not too late.”

“Yes.”

“You really expect me to believe that you, Captain Jean Valjean, are singing in a concert.”

“Believe that it will be a performance beyond anything even I’ve dreamt of. Like you, Inspector, I am a man of hidden talents.”

Gavroche jumped down from Fantine’s arms and everybody held their breath. He toddled over, and it _can_ be said that Valjean’s gaze became slightly less cold, and the inspector bent down on his knees so he was level with the small child (almost the same size as his boy Bahorel). Gavroche held out the program, and lungs were emptied in relief.

“The program, see?” Valjean said.

“It only says the names of the children,” Javert pointed out.

“It says the Valjean Family singers,” The Captain retorted. “And I am the head of the Valjean family, am I not?”

“And the travel clothes that you are wearing?”

“Our costumes, naturally,” answered Fantine. “The night air is no good for the children’s voices.”

Javert looked once again at Gavroche. The little boy was smiling up at him, chin barely poking out over his shawl. The inspector removed his badge and placed it on the boy’s chest, chuckling as he did so. “You keep an eye on things, boy,” he mumbled to him. Javert stood back up and folded the program. “A slight delay in my orders will not be serious. Therefore, you will all sing. Only because I want that. Afterwards, of course, Valjean will be taken with us to the barricades where he will defend the law. Now, get into the carriage and we will escort you.”

“No escort necessary.”

“Necessary? A pleasure, Captain. After all, we would not want you to get lost in the crowds. Would we?”

 

 

“ _Sew, a needle pulling thread_

_La, a note to follow sew_

_Tea, a drink with jam and bread_

_A drink with jam and bread_

_Tea with jam Jam and bread_ ”

“ _With jam_ ”

“ _A, B, C_ ”

“ _With jam_ ”

“ _Do-re-mi_ ”

“ _Tea with jam and bread_

 _With jam and bread_!”

The crowd erupted into a standing ovation. Valjean, pink cheeked and out of breathed, smiled at his family. From the audience Thenardier made a thumbs up toward him. The Captain stood before everybody and spoke loudly, his military voice making its way into everyone’s ears.

“My fellow people,” he spoke, “tonight is a somewhat dark night in the history or France. Today, General Lamarque has fallen, and the barricades arise. I would like to sing for you… somewhat of a love song. I know you share this love, and pray you never let it die…”

He turned to Enjolras, who’d taken the guitar in his arms and began plucking at strings.

“ _Do you hear the people sing_  
Lost in the valley of the night?  
It is the music of a people   
Who are climbing to the light.   
  
For the wretched of the earth   
There is a flame that never dies.   
Even the darkest night will end   
And the sun will rise.   
  
They will live again in freedom   
In the garden of the Lord.   
They will walk behind the plough-share,   
They will put away the sword.   
The chain will be broken   
And all men will have their reward.”

The audience joined in, their voices adding to the strong ones of the Valjean family. Uncle Thenardier, missing the occasional lyric, turned smugly over at Javert. The inspector growled and shushed the guards around him from singing along. _  
  
_“ _Will you join in our crusade?_  
Who will be strong and stand with me?   
Somewhere beyond the barricade   
Is there a world you long to see?   
Do you hear the people sing?  
Say, do you hear the distant drums?  
It is the future that they bring   
When tomorrow comes!   
  
Will you join in our crusade?   
Who will be strong and stand with me?   
Somewhere beyond the barricade   
Is there a world you long to see?   
Do you hear the people sing?   
Say, do you hear the distant drums?   
It is the future that they bring   
When tomorrow comes...”

When they’d finished and the crowd had once again riled up, Thenardier ran up to the stage. Valjean grabbed his sleeve and pulled him in, whispering something in his ear. “I think it will work,” said Valjean.

“I will miss all of you,” Thenardier replied. “I shall miss the money I could have made with you.”

Thenardier took head of stage and spoke to everybody. “Thank you!” he yelled. “I have been given permission to allow you an encore while the judges decide upon a winner. This could be the last time the Valjean family will sing together for a long time. Officials are waiting to take Captain Jean Valjean to the barricades to fight… in favor of the ‘law.’ So, ladies and gentlemen, they would like to bid you farewell.”

Fantine and the Captain stepped back, allowing the children to take front stage. Fantine smiled sadly as they sung the lyrics of that delightful song she’d taught them that night of the party. That party that she still has very mixed feelings about. She turned toward her husband, who took her hand and pressed a reassuring kiss to it.

“ _There's a sad sort of clanging_  
From the clock in the hall   
And the bells in the steeple, too   
And up in the nursery   
An absurd little bird   
Is popping out to say cuckoo…”

 _“Cuckoo, cuckoo_ …”

“ _Cuckoo!_ ”

“ _Regretfully they tell us_

“ _Cuckoo!_ ”

“ _But firmly they compel us  
to say good bye_ …”

“ _Cuckoo!_ ”

“ _To you_!”

“ _So long, farewell  
Auf Wiedersehen, goodnight_ …”

Courfeyrac and Eponine stepped forward, arms intertwined.

“ _I hate to go and leave this pretty sight_!”

They bowed and ran offstage.

“ _So long, farewell  
Auf Wiedersehen, adieu_ …”

Cosette, her hand held in Enjolras’s, went upstage.

“ _Adieu, adieu  
To you and you and you_!”

They, too, ran offstage.

“ _So long, farewell  
Auf Weidersehen, goodbye_ …”

Jehan ran up with Combeferre.

“ _We flit, we float  
We fleetly flee, we fly_!”

“ _So long, farewell  
Auf Weidersehen, goodbye_ …”

Gavroche hobbled up to the offstage stairs, sitting down and yawning.

“ _The sun has gone  
To bed and so must I_ …”

Eponine ran back in and picked up Gavroche, whisking him away. Valjean and Fantine watched them scurry off.

“ _Goodbye_  
Goodbye   
Goodbye…”

The couple squeezed hands and ran away, Thenardier taking their spot on stage. “The decision has been made!” he announced. “We will start with third place, who the judges have awarded to… the first soloist of the choir of St. Agatha’s Church. Second prize to the Mabeuf Quintet. And, oh, this is no surprise, first prize goes to… the Valjean Family Singers!”

The audience looked toward the offstage doors, waiting. No one came. Thenardier cleared his throat.

“The family Valjean!”

Still, no one. A frazzled Nation Guardsman ran out through the doors and yelled, “They’re gone! Valjean is gone!”

“What?!” bellowed Javert angrily, erupting from his seat.


	15. Sanctuary in the Barricade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end there's one more chapter after this

 

 

“Thank you, so much,” Valjean whispered, shaking the young revolutionary’s hand.

“Don’ mention it, man,” he replied. “We all gotta play our part for France.”

Another boy came up to them and led them away. “Come with me, come with me,” he whispered, leading them along the barricade as gun shots burst over their heads. An old man fell dead at Combeferre’s feat, and the boy let out a choked sob. Fantine, frowning, pushed him forward.

“You can hide here,” said the man, showing them an alcove behind the Corinthe. “When the mess calms down you can slip through here and get out of here.”

“Merci…” Fantine gasped, grasping his hands in hers. He smiled towards her and helped the children crowd into the space. After hours and hours of gun shots and screaming, it seemed to calm down enough, because the man from earlier (head bandaged and arm red with his own blood) came and instructed them to high tail it out of there. The Valjean family obeyed and slipped out the back of the barricade, walking in the shadows of the alleyway. They seemed to be in the clear when…

“Two men in there!” Javert screamed, pointing toward a building on the left. “Six of you cover the yard. You two, cover the alleyway.”

The Valjeans hid within a hole in a building, water falling on their shoulders and soaking through their travel things. They didn’t dare speak.

“The borders are closed,” Javert announced, talking to a Guardsman. “They’ll have to be hiding if they can’t get over with carriage.”

“Drat!” spat Valjean, looking over at Fantine. “We’ll have to… walk. We’ll walk.”

“The children…”

“We’ll help them.”

“We can do it without help, Papa,” Eponine whispered.

“Maman?” whispered Gavroche.

“Yes?”

“Would it help if we sang about our favorite things?”

“No darling. This is one time it would not help. Be very quiet and hold tight to me.”

Footsteps echoed on the pavement, and they all stood perfectly still. Two officers with lanterns walked through the alley, shining the light across the wall. One of them was slouched and young looking, a green bottle in his hand. Enjolras’s eyes widened and he gasped, “R!”

“Shh!” directed Fantine, pressing her hand over his mouth.

The light passed over them many times, but it missed them. It seemed they had given up, because the second officer turned away and started in another direction. Grantaire followed. Fantine removed her hand, and it was covered in hot tears. Enjolras pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and wheezed.

“Come on, darling.” Fantine urged him.

“I am.”

They were halfway down the alley when a drunken laugh bounced off the walls. They turned around and Grantaire was standing there, lantern illuminating their faces. He took a long sip from his bottle and approached them slowly.

“Look what I’ve found!” he laughed cruelly, tripping on his feet and stumbling towards them.

“R, please!” begged Enjolras.

“Calm down!” R spat. “It’s you we want, not them.”

He pointed a gun at Valjean, and the Captain frowned at his family.

“Fantine. Children. Go,” he commanded. They listened, running down the alleyway and into the shadows. The Captain turned toward Grantaire and slowly approached him. “Put that down.”

“Not another move!” R drunkenly shouted. “I’ll shoot!”

“You’re just a school boy,” continued Valjean. “Never held a gun. You don’t really belong to them.”

“Stay where you are!”

“Come away with us. Before it’s too late. With Enjolras.”

“N-Not another step. I’ll kill you.”

“You give that to me, Grantaire.”

“Did you hear me?” R squeaked, voice shaking. “I’ll kill you.”

“R.”

Grantaire, sighing, handing his gun to the Captain, his hands trembling. Valjean took it and disabled it. R looked down, ashamed, and Valjean placed a hand on his shoulder. “I knew you were bad news for Enjolras,” he muttered.

R’s head snapped up and he glared at the other. “They’re here!” he screeched, wrenching away from Valjean and running down the corridor, picking up the lantern from the ground. “They’re here!”

Valjean spun around and ran. He ran until he met up with his family at the barrier that left France. Fantine and he lifted the children over the wall, but were stopped at Enjolras, who said he needed to stay at the barricade. Fantine, tears streaming down her face, hugged him goodbye. Valjean gave him the gun, and they watched him sprint away from their safe arms and into the danger of the barricade.

“He’ll be safe,” Valjean assured his wife. “I believe in him.”

“And if he’s not?”

“I believe in him.”

They climbed over the wall, where the others stood. Fresh tears emerged from Fantine’s eyes as she looked at only six children before her. They asked questions, but none were answered. They escaped, walking through hills seemingly alive with the sound of music.


	16. We Meet Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey okay they see each other again fecking happy

“Viva la Republique!” Enjolras yelled, raising a red flag above his head and staring down the National Guardsmen before him. The barrel of the gun was like an official; the bullet a medal of honor.

“Wait!”

He’d come to the barricade in hopes of doing something heroic. Something heroic that would mend his broken heart. He’d taken control of the ranks, earned respect. Now, sadly, he stood alone before a wall in the top of the Corinthe where he would meet his demise. What would his parents say? What would R say? He was barely seventeen, yet throwing his life away…

“I’m one of them!”

A hobbled footstep. A soothing voice. A mop of brown curls. Grantaire stumbled over to Enjolras, his officer uniform tattered and dirty. The other guardsmen were confused as they saw the son of Inspector Javert stand before them and beside the red revolutionary.

“Do you permit it?” R asked.

Enjolras, speechless, grasped Grantaire’s hand in his and faced death with a smile.

“ _I am seventeen_

_Going on eighteen_

_But I’ll depend on you…_ ”

 


End file.
